


Stray Feathers and Scales

by Oparu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Magical Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 216,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago, Maleficent lost a child. When Regina finds out that child was hers too, she turns to Emma for comfort. Emma doesn't know how she can help either of them with their grief, but she's going to try because no one should have to go through that alone. </p><p>Past Dragon Queen. Swan Queen. Magical pregnancy, Emma and Maleficent bonding over their love of Regina. Regina learning she can create, not just destroy.</p><p>No real mentions of Hook or Robin Hood because they're not important to this story. They exist, they're just off doing something else nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in ages. So huge thanks to Racethewind10 for enabling me, editing and just being awesome.
> 
> As I started writing this before episode 4x20 "Mother" aired, I didn't know Regina would make herself unable to carry a child. This fic eventually features pregnant Regina, because the episode aired in the middle of what I'd already wanted to write. As that's a plot choice that upsets me in other fics, and I'm kind of a wreck about having it, I thought I'd add this note. 
> 
> This story takes place in an AU where Regina did not drink the potion that made her infertile.

"Coming," Emma called to the door, careful to cradle her baby brother as she stood up. He could sleep through almost anything, but like all babies, was still unpredictable about waking and she wanted him to stay asleep. He was entirely comfortable with sleeping on her lap, watching late night action movies while he was supposed to be sleeping in his bed and she was supposed to be watching with the volume way down. What her parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Siblings were supposed to have secrets together anyways. It was a thing, or so she’d heard. He snuffled in that baby way that sounded more like a puppy than a human and settled against her chest as she opened the door to someone she definitely hadn’t been expecting.

"Regina?"

"Emma, I'm sorry."

Emma shifted her feet, trying to hold the door open with one hand while she held her brother against her with the other. "You okay?"

"Are your parents home?"

"Date night," Emma said, indicating her brother with her chin. "Just us kids. You want to come in?"

Regina hesitated. Her breath made little clouds in the air, like smoke around her head. "I hope I didn't wake him."

“You didn’t,” Emma replied, shaking her head and stepping aside to motion in. But Regina didn’t move. Instead she fidgeted on the doorstep until the kid started to squirm, like he might wake up and Emma retreated in, walking toward the kitchen. The sound of Regina’s footsteps followed and Emma heard the soft click of the door being shut. In the kitchen, Regina looked at her hands then back up at Emma, uncertainty all over her face.

"I should go."

"No, stay," Emma offered. She probably sounded too eager. She didn't want to scare Regina, who seemed to be a breath away from poofing out of the apartment. "It's just me and the kid and my movie's really awful."

Regina didn't step back, and some of the tension in her face faded. "I didn't mean to--"

"You're not interrupting," Emma promised. She shifted the kid in her arms and let the terrible film go on without her in the living room. "I've seen it, a bunch of times. Storybrooke's cable doesn't have a lot of variety."

"You could change that, you know." Regina still hadn't taken off her coat, but she hadn't left. Maybe she needed the company. She hadn't said why she was here, but she seemed relieved to see Emma.

"What, magic myself up a better movie?" Emma rocked back and forth, willing the kid to stay asleep. Regina was clearly upset, grabbing on to the banal conversation about movies and cable way too easily. Emma smirked. "Would it work all over town, or just on my television?"

Regina peeled one of her gloves off, finally starting to smile. "Knowing you, it'll probably be the entire eastern seaboard."

"Yeah," Emma agreed. "Want some tea?"

Regina's second glove fell the to the island, and she carefully removed her coat. She hung it over a chair, holding it as if letting it go was a great sacrifice.

"Maybe something stronger?" Emma meant the offer as a joke.

Regina's hands trembled before she rested them on the countertop. She stared at her fingers, then looked up."Hmm?"

"You look like you need a drinking buddy," Emma replied. She pointed towards the cabinet. "Whiskey, top shelf. Glasses are in this one." She shifted the baby's weight again. The little guy could be really damn heavy sometimes. "You want to hold this chubby little guy and I'll get the glasses down?"

"No," Regina said, her voice suddenly sharp. "No," her tone softened, almost wistful. "I should go."

"Regina, wait."

Across the island in the kitchen, Regina's shoulders slumped and she turned back to Emma. "I don't know if I can talk about this with you."

"I won't judge you," Emma said.

"I know," Regina agreed, and the tension in her shoulders melted, if just for a moment. "You don't judge me, I just." She set down the bottle of whiskey. "It's complicated."

Emma reached across, pulled off the top and then took a swig from the bottle.

Regina winced, then smiled, but there was a heaviness in the way her face moved, like the muscles were sore. "I'll use a glass."

Emma shrugged and headed into the living room. Baby brother probably wouldn't let her sit down again, but she could be optimistic.

Regina took down two glasses from the cupboard and poured, adding a few fingers of whiskey to each. She carried them over and set one on the coffee table in front of Emma. "How's babysitting?"

Emma grabbed the remote and shut off the film because Regina needed her full attention. "The kid will sleep through action flicks and explosions, but sometimes I stop moving, he wakes up." Emma hovered by the coffee table, then decided to risk putting him down in his basinet. He settled, calm for the moment. Her hands finally free, Emma reached down for her glass of whiskey. Just smelling it made her smile. At least her dad bought the good stuff. She got a sip before she set back down the glass and sat next to Regina on the sofa. Something was bothering her. Emma didn't need a superpower to see how fragile Regina was.

Regina sat neatly, hands in her lap, but she held the whiskey like a lifeline and didn't drink. "I want you to know that I'm not holding things back because I don't trust you. It's just, some secrets aren't mine."

"It's okay." Emma smiled at her, wishing she could reach her and make her feel safe, somehow. "You can be obscure if you need to be. I just don't want you to feel like you have to deal with whatever it is alone."

"Thank you." Regina stared at the glass, then downed it quickly. She took a breath, stiffening. "Maleficent's returned from the dead."

Emma nodded, her parents had announced that. She'd had a drink with her dad after her mom had gone to bed. Was this why Regina was upset? Was Henry in danger (again)? It would explain why Regina was so shook up, but that didn't feel right. Maleficent had no reason to go after Henry, and Regina didn't seem worried in that way. She wasn't being protective.

"Is she angry about the whole dragon slaying thing?"

Regina blinked at her, as if that being in recent history had suddenly occurred to her. "That? No, she doesn't hold grudges about little things like that."

Emma blinked, relieved but still… "Me killing her was a little thing?"

"I trapped her in a cave for twenty-eight years and we've come to terms. Mal seeking revenge on you is not something you need to worry about,” Regina said, making a dismissive gesture.

Lifting her glass, Emma tilted it towards Regina and grinned even more. "Well, good."

Now Regina actually smiled, though it faded nearly as soon as it appeared, but it was sweet. "I don't want you to worry."

"If you say I don't have to--"

"You don't."

"Do you?" Emma asked. Standing, she walked to the kitchen to grab the bottle, coming back and pouring Regina some more, in case she needed it. Regina's hands were still trembling, but not in anger, not in fear-- Emma couldn't place what was bothering her.

Regina's eyebrows narrowed and she stared at Emma, confused, as if she hadn’t heard the question. "What?"

"Is she angry with you?"

Regina picked up her glass and gulped it all down again, wincing less this time. "No."

"Okay. So she's not after revenge." Emma leaned back on the sofa and tried not to sigh in relief. Regina wasn't lying; she could tell that. "Is she seeking redemption, like Ursula and Cruella?"

Regina sat back wearily, and for a moment, Emma almost put her arm around her, just enough to hold her still. "No."

"Then what, Regina?"

Regina filled her own glass with another few fingers of whiskey. "She's looking for her child."

"Her child?" That wasn't in the book. Why was the damn book so full of holes? "Are we talking about a baby dragon?"

The joke was weak and Regina didn't smile, instead she set down her glass, defeated. She reached up to brush her face, and Emma realised that she was fighting tears. "No."

"What is it?"

Little Bro - she still couldn't call him Neal in her head – picked that exact moment to start to mutter, then squawk and Emma jumped up to grab him, cursing his timing. She'd been optimistic putting him down. If he didn't fall asleep in his bed, he was terrible at staying asleep there. Sure enough, the little guy started to cry and Regina shuddered, as if the sound of him cut through her. She stared at the floor, down through her hands.

Emma picked up the baby and walked with him, bouncing him a little and whispering to him until he quieted. He would insist on being awake for awhile, but he wouldn't cry if he kept moving.

Regina stood. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be--"

"No, look, whatever it is, you obviously need to tell someone. You're here, I'm obviously going to be awake for awhile. Tell me. You can trust me."

Shutting her eyes, Regina wrapped her arms tight around her chest as if that could protect her. "Maleficent's child."

Emma would have given anything to hold her instead of the baby. "Who's missing."

"Her child was lost in the curse, my curse." Regina's voice kept softening, full of regret and a sorrow Emma still didn't understand.

"And she's pissed about that?"

Regina's lips opened and shut twice before she found words. "I suppose you could say I was the father."

Stopping and staring, Emma forgot to bounce the little guy until he started to cry again. Regina reached for him, almost on instinct, and Emma handed him over, letting her hold him as tears came to her eyes. All Emma could do was stare as Regina swayed, rocking the baby in her arms. Of all the possible confessions, this wasn’t one she’d ever imagined.

"You and Maleficent had a dragon baby?" Emma finally managed, still stunned. "I thought that only happened on magical Japanese cartoons Henry keeps watching on Friday night." She was trying to lighten the mood, but her lame attempt at humor had the opposite effect, and Regina's face crumbled. Her control faded. Blinking back tears, Regina moved away, still rocking the little guy as if she'd done it a hundred times.

Cursing herself, Emma softened her voice. "You're good at that."

That seemed to work because Regina’s shoulders softened. "He's just like Henry."

Emma had wondered how much her brother looked like Henry; if Henry had cried the same when he was scared or lonely. Regina had been there for him, and that made it all a little better. She toyed with what she wanted to ask first. Her words fought in her head, and somehow she managed to blurt something incredibly stupid. "So, you're a magic baby daddy?"

Which was not the deeper question of Maleficent and Regina having a history, that kind of history, which meant Regina had been with a woman (and might be again). That went deeper than Emma wanted to admit she even felt, or thought. It wasn't important now anyway, Regina was upset, really upset, and she had to do something.

Little Bro's blankets absorbed enough of his various fluids to be fine for tears, and Regina was trying so hard to hold them back, but Emma couldn't imagine what she felt. She'd given up Henry knowing he went to a better life, this baby, child, adult, was lost. Being lost in this world was uglier than the fairy tales.

Emma stroked Regina's shoulder, forgetting that touching her might be too intimate. Regina didn't pull away and Emma had to force herself not to smile. "How is that even--?"

"Maleficent's not human."

"Obviously," Emma replied. She kept rubbing her arm, waiting for Regina to finish. "And the dragon?"

"That's part of her, but not all of her. She's, well, she's incredibly old. Her magic is ancient."

"So it's part of her magic? You being able to--"

Regina sniffed, almost hiding behind the baby. "I didn't think I could."

"Well yeah," Emma agreed, grinning a little. "I wouldn't imagine that it popped into your head."

Finally, Regina reacted the way she would. She gave Emma that look that meant she was being ridiculous, which Emma had been waiting for and was relieved to see. "No, I, I mean I knew about that. People with magic can accomplish extraordinary things. I didn't think it could happen to me. I'm not exactly… the birds and flowers type."

She still didn't get it. "It's related to flowers?"

Regina calmed, slowly, and little Bro seemed to like the way she bounced him. Emma wished she could hug her, however stupidly. No one had hugged her when she'd found out she was going to be a parent, and Regina needed that. Especially if her child was missing.

"It's not like flowers," Regina tried to explain. "Magic is, emotion; intent. I was very angry then, dark, full of pain that I wanted to spread everywhere. I didn't think-" she paused and the grief on her face was so deep that Emma wondered if her tears were coming back. "I never thought, I could make any kind of life. I made people suffer. I ripped out hearts. Even with someone as powerful as Maleficent, I shouldn't have been able to create life."

"And you're sure that she's telling you the truth?"

Regina nodded, her voice flat. "Maleficent wouldn't lie to me. I don't think she ever has." Then, she shut her eyes. She took half a step closer to Emma, and somehow Emma's hands were on both of her shoulders and they were swaying together again, little Bro in the middle.

"You know that's not you now," Emma insisted. "You're a protector. You were willing to let that big Balrog-hellbeast-"

"Chernobog."

"That big guy, go after you. You helped protect the town from Zelena, and the Snow Queen. You're not hurting anyone now."

"I could," Regina reminded her, and that guilt stabbed into Emma's stomach. When would she stop feeling so awful for the past? It didn't seem to bother Gold.

"Probably not holding prince chunky there," Emma teased.

"He is heavy, isn't he? I swear he's bigger than Henry was at this age." Momentarily distracted, Regina met Emma's eyes.

What was it, gratitude? Calm? Fear that even while holding a baby she was someone just waiting to turn evil again? "I think you'd be a good daddy."

Regina nearly rolled her eyes. They started to move, then she stopped. Passing little Bro back over to Emma, she took a step back. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For dumping all of this on you."

"Regina, it's not dumping. You found out you have a child that you've never met, who's missing."

Regina's tone was cool again. "If she's even alive in this world."

Emma's stomach twisted. She never quite understood the magic that brought them to here. If Maleficent's baby wasn't in Storybrooke, where was she? Was she here, somewhere, trapped? Was she in the outside world? Having to ask was pathetic, but she said it. "Shouldn't she be?"

"If she was in the Enchanted Forest when I cast the curse, she should be here. If for some reason she wasn't there--" Regina trailed off. She brushed her hands against her trousers, then retreated towards her coat.

Emma followed her, rocking little Bro, who didn't seem that thrilled about being back with her instead of with Regina. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"It's okay if you're not. Believe me, I know how it feels to have a kid turn up and make your world a mess." She tried to be light, to smile, but she couldn't get through. Regina's shields were up again. Her pain was in her shoulders, her arms, the way she held herself so upright.

"It's not as if she turned up, is it?" Regina grabbed her coat. "Thank you, Miss Swan, for listening, and thank you for the drink."

"It's dad's."

"Then pass my gratitude to David."

Short of putting herself between Regina and the door, there really wasn't anything Emma could do to stop her from leaving. She wanted to follow her out, but little Bro didn't deserve to be dragged out into the night. "If you need to talk--" Emma finished, knowing how weak an offer it was. She didn't know anything about magic babies, or curses, or how that would make someone go missing for years.

"Thank you," Regina repeated, and Emma nearly did take little Bro out after her. "I'd prefer it if you didn't mention this to anyone. I'll tell Henry, of course."

"Let me know if you want back-up for that."

Regina nodded once more, and lingered, as if there was something else she wanted to say. Then she pulled her coat on left. The door shut and Emma stared at the neat black gloves still sitting on the kitchen island. Picking them up, she tucked them into her own coat pocket, then corralled the glasses. David wouldn't care if she drank some of his whiskey, but she didn't want to talk about Regina's visit. She had just poured the leftover whiskey into her glass when the keys moved in the lock and her little brother began to cry, as if he could sense that his mother and the chance of a real midnight snack was there.

She finished Regina's whiskey, only half listening to her parents. Regina and Maleficent had a history. Regina had a history with women, at least, part-dragon women. That did something to her heart that was far more optimistic than Emma was really ready to admit. She didn't know Maleficent, at least, not in a form where they could actually speak to each other, but the more she thought about how awful it must have been, shut away in a cave, unable to even look for her child--

She made her excuses about being tired and left. Granny's wouldn't still be open, but she could go sit in the Sheriff's office for a while. No one would care if she sat at her desk. Since she’d been drinking, she walked to the station, watching the fog curl along the ground. Regina was a father, well, second mother? Donor mother? What were the words for that? Would there be books about it in the library? Did she dare ask Belle? How was she even going to phrase it?

She'd walked past the Sheriff's station when she realised there were feet on the sidewalk beside her own. Feet in expensive shoes that weren't Regina's, or Gold's.

"She told you." The woman beside her was tall, dressed in an impeccable grey suit. Something Regina would have liked. Her blonde hair was up neatly beneath her hat, and she was easily several inches taller than Emma. Even without the height, something about her was imposing. Like Regina could be, but deeper.

Emma kept her hands in her pockets, trying to stay calm. She didn't want to give off any sign of confrontation. "You mean Regina?"

"She's the only woman on your mind, isn't she?"

Emma's face burned. How could she be blushing? At least it was dark, and this woman, whomever she was, couldn't read minds, could she? No one did that, did they?

"I wanted to make sure she was all right when she teleported away," the woman replied. "I may have been a little blunt and she's never been the best with emotional news."

It would have been more collected if Emma hadn't said it, but the words fell. "You're Maleficent."

"And you're the saviour who killed me, yes," she said, waving her hand as if already bored. "Shall we talk?"

"Talk?" Emma swallowed.

"Regina went to you when she was upset, you now seem equally rattled. Would you like to discuss it, or would you prefer to run to your parents and arrange my downfall?" Maleficent tucked her own hands back in her pockets, as if mimicking Emma's stance would calm her. She didn't seem dangerous, but so many people never did at first.

"You followed her?"

"I did, yes."

"Because she was upset?"

"She left in a hurry," Maleficent explained. Her breath hung in clouds in front of her mouth, as if she was much warmer than the cold air. "She has a history of rash behaviour when she's upset."

"We all do," Emma said, surprised by how defensive her tone was.

Maleficent cooed her amusement, but the way her teeth clicked was sharp, somehow wrong, considering that she appeared to have very normal, human, teeth. "So, saviour, ready to go?" Dark smoke, nearly black, swirled around Maleficent's feet and Emma realised that they weren't going to be talking in the street.

Emma nodded, forgetting her concerns. Maybe she'd learn things that could help Regina, or at least make it easier to understand what she was going through. Perhaps Maleficent wanted her help. She was good at finding people, she always had been. The hope of finding Regina's child whispered through her, just for a moment, and she smiled.

The way Maleficent smiled back sent cold fingers down Emma's neck. Though she couldn't deny the danger Maleficent posed, Emma trusted that she wasn't a threat to her, at least, not directly. She hoped.

The night faded into deeper blackness, and they vanished from the street.

They reappeared in a lonely living room. It felt empty, stale, like a tomb. The furniture was dark wood, old, and the fireplace on the wall was huge and black. It was beautiful the way the stones on the edge of the sea were. Trees whispered in the woods around them and except for that it was silent. Maleficent blew lazily, as if putting out a candle, and the fire sprang to life. Then she tapped a switch and the lights came on.

Emma blinked. She'd almost expected candles, not electric lights. "This is your house."

"It's not a castle by any means, but it'll do." Maleficent took her hat from her head and hung it near the door. She removed her coat and waved a hand towards the pegs for Emma. Her hand didn't have claws, and Emma wasn't surprised, not really. "I suppose it's the least Regina could do."

Was that fondness in her voice? Were her and Regina friends still? Was there affection? What had been between them and what was left? Regina hadn't been concerned about Emma killing her, but that was to save Henry. She would have done anything; they both would have. Was that why Maleficent didn't hold a grudge? Was it that she wasn't really dead?

Hanging up her coat, Emma followed Maleficent over to the fire. Her host took the oversized armchair. It was old, large and intricately carved, with wood so dark that it could have been stone. Maleficent sat in it like a throne, but that seemed right. Emma sat across from her, on the fairly normal sofa and tried not to feel like her posture, jeans, and general appearance wasn't entirely inadequate to be here. It was a lot like Regina's living room. No wonder they'd gotten along, once. Still? She thought of Neal and wondered which one of these two had done the lying that led to their break-up.

Fighting down something that Emma was not going to call jealousy, she studied the house. It was all dark, blacks and reds. Not particularly inviting. It was a cool place, like volcanic rock allowed to set.

She'd missed Maleficent getting up, yet there was a drink in front of her. As Emma expected, it was hot, but the smell was unfamiliar. Spice hung in the steam but she couldn't place it.

"It's not poison," Maleficent promised. She sat up and her clothing rustled like scales. "But if you want me to drink it first, I will."

"That's okay," Emma said, trying not to seem ungrateful. She took a sip. It was spicy, some kind of tea. "Thanks."

Maleficent's slight inclination of her chin was Emma's acknowledgement. "Now then, was Regina all right?"

The way Regina had trembled in her hands still stung in her memory. "Rattled," Emma said. "Confused."

"That's understandable."

"Is it?"

Maleficent sat up, leaning closer to Emma. "I would be right to assume that you've learned magic from Regina, Rumplestiltskin, and from that book."

"And some from the fairies."

"The fairies," Maleficent repeated, smirking. "You mean the charming little convent of nuns in blue? Funny how here they're all blue, instead of all of them simply beneath the foot of their blue leader."

"Are you a fairy?"

The fire flickered, and the shadows made appear horns in Maleficent's hair. They weren't there, not really, yet they were. Now that Emma really looked, there were curved, dark horns on Maleficent's head. "No dear, but we're about the same age. It's not important what I am, or even how Regina and I had a child. What's important--" She faltered. The confidence in her voice melted, vanished like smoke in the wind. Maleficent sat back, hiding in the shadows of her chair. "I want you to know that I didn't tell Regina about our child because she was different before."

The yearning in her voice was worse than Regina's. This baby had been wanted. Whatever, she was, however she came to be, Maleficent had wanted to keep her. Emma knew what that felt like. She still had the memories Regina had created of her fake life with Henry. Emma knew what it was to hold him close. Maleficent had lost that. She'd lost her baby. She'd hadn't given her away so she'd have a better life, she'd been taken.

Emma nodded, trying not to look too close. Her own eyes burned and she didn't think Maleficent would appreciate her tearing up. Maleficent's voice had the same gravel as Regina's, the same buried suffering. "I know, I mean, I haven't seen much, but I've heard. She was different here too, at first."

"Perhaps she's more herself again now," Maleficent wondered. Control oozed from her again, as if she could have lashed out and ended Emma in a moment. Maybe she could.

"I don't know. I think she's made a lot of progress."

Maleficent chuckled. "She's not the Evil Queen, that's not her, never has been. She's Regina, and she's getting back to that."

"You don't think she's evil?" Emma had been expecting some kind of evil power couple of the past. She was almost disappointed.

The firelight reflected in Maleficent's eyes, or perhaps there was fire within them. Either way, they flashed vivid orange-red. "Regina was angry. She wanted to cause pain because she lived with too much of it. Evil doesn't enjoy pain, evil hurts others because it doesn't care what happens as long as it gets what it wants. True evil is selfish, saviour. The pain of others only means something to you when you know what pain is."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

It was a stupid thing to say. Maleficent didn't want to be pitied. No one did. Emma started to apologise for apologising and stopped herself before she really sounded like an idiot. "What can I do?"

"What makes you think that I need you to do anything?" Her voice was cool, forcibly without emotion.

Emma knew what that sounded like. She sounded so much like Regina, when she'd given up. No one should have to give up. "I'm good at finding people."

"That's sweet."

Being patronised hardly bothered Emma anymore. It happened so often. "I am."

"Now what would your parents think if they heard you offer to help me?"

Emma sat forward and looked Maleficent right in her glowing eyes. "Why wouldn't I offer to help you? You lost your child. No one should go through that."

Leaving her chair and walking towards the fire didn't leave any shadows to hide the tears on Maleficent's face. Maybe she didn't care. "While I appreciate your offer, that is not why I asked you here."

"Okay."

Running her fingers along the edge of the fireplace, Maleficent stared down into the flames. "I didn't tell Regina about our child back in our land because she wasn't ready to hear such things. She wouldn't have taken it well. Here, now, she's different. She's more herself. I've had years with my grief. Hers is new. You care about her, so if you must do something, comfort her."

She never should have touched her, but Emma wasn't thinking. She put her hand on Maleficent's shoulder. She didn't know how to say that helping wasn't limited to one person at a time, or that even if Maleficent didn't want her understanding, she had it. To Emma's surprise, there wasn't an immediate puff of smoke, sending her away to the darkest cave of Storybrooke, or a fireball throwing her across the room. Maleficent's hand touched her own, her skin hot and dry from the heat of the fire.

"I know it sounds empty, and stupid, but I am sorry. I gave up my son so he could have a better life, and he ended up with Regina, and I can't get over how lucky that was because Henry's had a good life." Emma said. She was rambling now, but Maleficent hadn't burned her to a crisp, so maybe it wasn't the end of the world. "That was damn hard, and I know he's okay. I can't imagine--"

"Nor should you." Maleficent turned and looked through her, because her eyes weren't cold and empty, or even distant. Her grief was so near and palpable that the air stung in Emma's throat. "Good night saviour." She squeezed Emma's hand, only slightly, then sat down in front of the fire.

Emma got the idea that she was supposed to show herself out. She grabbed her coat and made sure she still had Regina's gloves. She didn't have a flashlight, and she didn't know where the hell she was in the forest, but it seemed rude to ask. She stood there, watching Maleficent in front of the fire, forgetting that she'd been sent away. She could imagine Regina loving her. When she loved, Regina was every bit as fierce as Maleficent, and just as strong. Had they been happy? What were they like together?

What was Emma supposed to have in common with ancient creatures and women who'd lived through at least two of Emma's lifetimes?

"You don't know how to teleport, do you?" Maleficent asked, breaking Emma's thoughts.

"I haven't learned it yet," Emma said, sheepishly looking down at her boots. "Sorry."

"You haven't been taught it, saviour, there's a difference. You can't really expect to learn how to turn yourself into smoke all on your own, can you?" Maleficent stood from the fire, wiping her hands together. "Think of where you want to go. Picture it in your mind. Imagine yourself standing there, being there, as if you've just stepped through a doorway."

"I don't usually step through magical doorways." Emma shrugged. She wasn't going to learn it right this second, was she?

Maleficent put her hands on her hips and Emma was suddenly aware that this was a lesson, and she'd better be paying attention. "See yourself there, then step through."

Emma shut her eyes. She imagined the library. There would be books there that could help. Maybe something about curses, or magical pregnancies, or dragon fairies older than time--

Maleficent sighed, more exhausted than annoyed. "Concentrate on the place, saviour, or you'll end up scattering yourself into pieces amongst those random places your thoughts are bouncing between. We'll be picking pieces of you out of the forest for weeks."

Regina wouldn't like that. Emma saw her, standing in her lonely living room, maybe looking at pictures of Henry. Was she worried about her baby? Was she angry? Did she think the baby was dead? Was she alive, somewhere, Emma's age?

She heard Maleficent say something.

"Close enough."

What was close enough? Was she getting it? Everything went white, the same white that Emma's magic always was. Was Maleficent helping? Was that why Emma wasn't scattered across Storybrooke? When she opened her eyes, she stood in front of Regina's front gate. The light was on and she could just see Regina through the window. She sat in the living room, alone.

"This is so not the library," Emma chided herself. She touched her coat, making sure she was all in one piece. Regina's gloves were in her pocket and Emma took them out and held them. The leather was so soft and smooth in her hands. She could put them in the mailbox and let Regina find them tomorrow.

She didn't, because it would be better if she returned them personally.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks again to racethewind10 for being my idea person and her incredible editing.

Her bed felt wrong, sheets too cold and too soft and no matter which way she turned, comfort escaped her. Her body hurt, as if she'd been running, or hit with a fireball, and each movement set off a fresh ache somewhere deep in her muscles, but she couldn’t settle. Regina turned, then turned again. Her left side was sore, but shifting onto her right left her looking at the wall, and she couldn't look at the wall. She stared at the ceiling, but its featureless white plane could do nothing to make her mind stop. 

Her thoughts spiralled out of her control, an endless circle of questions that dredged up so many memories, so much pain. Old wounds ripped open and new guilt weighed her down. 

When had it happened? How had she missed it? Had she laid next to Maleficent while she was pregnant? Had Mal wanted to tell her? Regina had made it impossible, hadn't she? All she had wanted in those days was revenge and pain. Even the pregnancy should have been impossible, even with all of Maleficent's power; Regina couldn't create life. She'd tried. She'd been lonely, desperate enough to wish Leopold could have gotten her with child but it never happened. Even when she'd tried to use magic, nothing worked. Regina herself was barren, either through some defect in her genes or her own magic, dark and sinister, destroying her body’s ability to create life within her as she trained it to destroy life without. Even after all these years, she could offer no other explanation. It must have been her fault, for Leopold had Snow. No matter how many times the chaotic jumble of her thoughts turned over and over she could come to no other conclusion. She had always thought she was barren and would remain so. 

It was the ‘why’ that kept ringing in the silence of her bedroom, though.

Maybe her magic had been in her all along, filling her with darkness and the emptiness that came with it. Or maybe Villains didn't get happy endings. Something in Regina’s chest tightened and crumpled at that. It made a sick, terrible kind of sense. After all, the creation of life was the ultimate sign of ‘Good’ wasn’t it? Rumplestiltskin hadn't had another child after he'd become The Dark One, trading instead in the lives of others’ children. Cruella and Ursula, they had no children. Ingrid had clung to adopting children and drove Emma away with her darkness.

And on the other face of the coin… Snow had Emma, even after she'd been cursed not to bear a child, because the stars had aligned so she could after all. Everything worked for Snow's happy ending, for Emma, and little Neal. That thought was the final biting nail and Regina gave up any attempt to sleep. Sitting up, pushing the blankets aside, Regina grabbed her robe from the hook on the wall and pulled it on over her pyjamas. 

She wandered down the kitchen, passing Henry's closed door. She was tempted to check in on him but she knew he was asleep and didn’t want to take the chance she’d wake him. He'd always slept better than she did. 

Unfortunately, the thought of Henry merely set off another round of self-recrimination, the silence of the house closing in on her like a tomb. A part of Regina knew this was foolish, that Henry was her son, and blood meant nothing when he smiled at her or hugged her. That she earned the right to be his mother through tears and dirty diapers, scraped knees and sunburns, through nightmares and birthday parties, through ‘I found my real mom’ and ‘this is my home too!.’ If it were daylight perhaps that would be enough, but the sun was long gone. The world and her heart were lonely at three am, and something about this – about finding she had, for lack of a better word, fathered a child, only to discover her lost – had torn the gnarled roots of her past and unleashed a torrent of regret where once there was only a tame stream. Doubt, guilt and self-loathing stirred in her blood and not even the warm light of her kitchen could chase it away.

Good had children. Good created life. Emma- Emma had Henry in the most dire of circumstances, and he was wonderful. Emma was good, so of course she'd had Henry. That made sense. Henry coming to Regina was a coincidence. A part of the curse, trying to be broken. She didn't deserve Henry. She never would have had him at all if Storybrooke hadn't needed him for the curse to be broken. It was all part of Rumplestiltskin's grand plan. Manipulation and plotting brought her Henry, and she'd been allowed to raise him. She couldn't have made him or carried him, as Emma had. She was too broken. 

Regina’s stomach ached, tightening itself into a knot beneath her chest. She put water in the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. She pulled down one of the next boxes of tea and dropped a bag into one of the mugs, mind barely on the task at hand. Instead, another litany of questions crowded her: Where was her child? Was she safe? Was she grown, like Emma? Was she dead?

At that, Regina shut her eyes, unable to face the horror. No. Whatever happened to the baby, she was not dead. What had her curse done to their child? Was she lost somewhere in Storybrooke? Hidden or trapped? There were secrets in the town even Regina didn't know, and finding them might be as difficult as finding the Author. 

Lost in the darkness of the past and the uncertainty of the present, Regina startled when the kettle whistled, seemingly long before enough time should have passed. Pulling it off the heat, she drowned her teabag in boiling water and stared as the bottom of the water started to change colour. The peppermint leaves in the bag turned the water pale green, the colour creeping upwards in the water. The steam rose from the cup, reminding her of the rain on Mal's bare skin. She was always so warm. 

Maleficent. So many memories, and many of them good even now. Regina remembered how it felt to have Mal curled against her. Leopold never held her, but Mal did. Some of the only bright moments in the Hell that had been her marriage had been in Mal's huge bed, the two of them in the middle, wrapped together, Mal’s fingers on her skin soothing and tender. Wracking her memory, Regina tried to find details she had missed. Mal kept her emotions close, but towards the end of their time together she'd been softer, gentler; pulled inward somehow so she no longer cared for revenge.

Were the clues there and she’d just been too angry to see? That day in the snow, after Maleficent had taken her flying and then been sick, blaming the sheep she had eaten for being diseased. Regina remembered sitting beside her human form, plotting Show White's demise while Mal spat steaming ashes into the snow. She'd never seen her ill; Mal had a kind of invincible strength. Then, she'd blamed the farmers for poor quality animals, and had seemed her usual sardonic self, but she'd been happy underneath it. She'd been so happy being with Regina, even when Regina had nothing but hatred to share in return. Had Mal tried to tell her then? If she had, Regina had been too far gone to listen. Not even the rush of flight and the beautiful view from Mal’s back could pull her from her anger. In those final days, Regina had very little of anything to spare for anyone other than herself. 

Now, standing alone in her house in Storybrooke, Regina wondered if it could it have been different if she'd known. What would she have done? Left the kingdom in Snow White's hands and retreated to the forest with Mal and the baby? It was impossible to imagine, truly. Was that a path that she even had the option to take? Had the author determined what was going to happen to her already? Without the Dark Curse, Storybrooke wouldn’t exist and….and Henry would never have been born. Maybe she and Mal could have been each other's happy ending in another story, but this tale had a dark plan of its own and for the part of it that had brought Regina her son, she could never regret, nor ever want to change. 

The tea did nothing to soothe Regina’s stomach and sighing, she dumped it out into the sink. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well do something useful. She took out things for Henry's lunch from the cupboard. She could put his lunch in the fridge and leave him some money for breakfast at Granny's. He'd probably meet Emma or his idiot grandparents. He'd be fine. It might have been cowardice but Regina wasn't ready to face him yet. She was too raw, her emotions too close to the surface and she would be unable to hold anything back from him. There was no way she would be able to explain this without breaking down, and she could never allow that in front of Henry.

She needed Emma. That realisation was like a single ray of light finding a crack in the clouds, brightening Regina’s world just a little. Emma would know what to say. It was so much easier when she was with her.

* * *

The sun wasn't even grey on the horizon when Regina left her house for the office. She had dressed quickly, half dazed by her inability to sleep. She couldn't stand lying in her bed, and she wasn't sure what was going to be easier at the office, but she felt more in control there. Behind that desk she was Mayor, not mother, and Regina needed that refuge, at least for the moment, she could bury her emotions beneath numbers and spreadsheets so maybe she could stop wondering what would it be to have a child Emma's age walk into town. Maybe she could stop imagining what memories that woman would have or if her childhood would have been as awful as Emma’s had been? 

Once at the office, Regina tried to lose herself on the paperwork on her desk. Careful control of their trade with the outside world kept their supermarket stocked and their cars running. Maintaining inventory was dull work, but usually it calmed her thoughts and while the sun rose, she worked ahead on as much paperwork as she could. When she couldn't keep her eyes on the page in front of her, Regina drummed her fingers on the desk then pressed one hand into the centre of her forehead.

Unfortunately, keeping Storybrooke functioning could only distract her for so long. 

Knowing she had avoided Mal long enough, Regina stood, took a deep breath and teleported into Maleficent's living room. A fire burned low on the dark stone, embers popping in the darkness. Mal wasn't in her chair, though it was pulled close to the hearth, suggesting she hadn’t been gone long. Mal had never slept much, even in the best of moods, so she wouldn't be asleep now. Regina listened, but she heard no pacing feet. She paused at the foot of the stairs. That was too intimate, she couldn't go up. 

"Still don't knock, do you?" Mal's voice came from behind her as she emerged from the kitchen. Her tone was rough and she made no effort to hide it. Regina didn’t respond to the barbed question. One of the things she and Mal had always understood about each other; they lashed out when hurt.

"I needed to see you."

Mal merely brushed passed her, moving from the kitchen, heading for the fireplace. The taller woman looked – in a word – horrible. Instead of her normal wardrobe which had always rivalled Regina’s own, Mal wore only a wrinkled silver robe over her nightgown, her hair falling loose onto her shoulders from unruly curls. Dark circles marred her face and her eyes were reddened. 

"Here I am," she said. She was a wreck, but seemed to be sober. She hadn't been dabbling in curses again. That was something postitive. 

"Are you--" Regina started, hardly sure what she wanted to ask. There was so much, too much for words.

Sinking into her chair with none of her usual predatory grace, Mal waved her quiet. "There's no point in your sympathy."

Regina's chest ached, worse than her stomach had knotted before. Her breath felt too tight. "I know. I’m still sorry."

"I know you are.” The words escaped Mal like smoke, soft and all used up, as she wiped her tears on a tissue and tossed it into the flames where it began to burn, edges blackening. "You know, I was actually foolish enough to think that when the curse was broken, I'd see her again. I knew you'd made a mess of things, shuffled everyone's lives and identities, but I thought she'd be safe, somewhere up there. Some family would have her and when that fiendish, hideous Dark Curse was broken, I'd see her. I hung onto that for years in that cave. Then your saviour turned up with her father's sword and I thought finally, that would be the end. That hack of an Author had written my demise and at least I wouldn't have to miss her."

Regina knelt beside her, ignoring the ash on the stones. She dragged the box of tissues with her, wondering if it had appeared in Mal's house with everything else. It was hard to imagine Mal walking into the supermarket.

Mal wiped her face again but it was no use, her tears fell faster, as if released by Regina's presence. "But she wasn't there. Not in the space between life and death, not here in this cursed little town that you love so much: she's just gone. I wasn't ready for that. When Cruella and Ursula brought me back, I thought I'd feel her, know where she was, somehow, but I don't. I can't. She's just--" Maleficent trailed off, eyes glittering with tears staring sightlessly into flickering embers of the fire.

Regina sat silent. The words crowded her heart, the things she wanted to say all of it felt futile in the face of Mal’s grief. For a long moment there was nothing, and then Mal shifted, something making a soft sound in the pocket of her robe and Regina's eyes stung with harsh tears. Mal pulled out a rattle made in the shape of a tiny, silver dragon's claw and turned it over in her hands. "How could she have escaped the curse? Why isn't she here? Why--" Mal asked questions like pleas, but Regina had no answers and even lost in her own agony, Mal seemed to understand. She wasn’t asking Regina, not really. She was asking fate or the Author: all those great invisible hands who directed their lives that Regina had spent decades railing against. It had always gotten her nowhere.

Other than her brief, awkward friendship with Kathryn, Regina hadn't pulled anyone to her chest who wasn't a child. Snow and Henry had cried there when they were children, but she was no one's confidant. She never had been. Sharing this made sense, and Mal had no one closer. In a way, neither did Regina. Yet even with Mal wrapped in her arms, Regina kept thinking of Emma, and how Emma would know what to do. Emma would say the right things to comfort a mother whose child had vanished.

She wanted to apologise. To take all the responsibility for herself, but this, for once, wasn't her fault. Yes, she'd needed Maleficent's power, but that wouldn't have meant taking her child. Regina could have taken the baby herself if she'd known about her, or found her a home. The curse wouldn't have punished a baby, other than bringing her to Storybrooke and that didn't seem to be too much of a punishment now that there was magic. It was certainly cleaner and safer than the Enchanted Forest had ever been. As hard as it was to face, this pain wasn't something Regina could blame herself for. She was unaccustomed to that, but Mal didn't seem to want anything more than her presence. Regina wasn't sure what she could do, or how her being there was meant to help anyone, yet Maleficent clung to her, trusting her with her vulnerability. 

Maybe Emma was right, Regina was different now. Maybe that meant she could be more than she was and perhaps she could help her old friend by being there for her and going through this with her. Regina didn't know what she was missing, but Mal's grief was so raw that it sucked her in like a maelstrom.

* * *

They cast the locator spell together just after daybreak, when Mal had cried herself out and Regina's head ached from her own tears. They wound a lock of Regina's deep black hair and one of Maleficent's gold together around the handle of the little rattle. They joined hands above it and the hair caught fire, the deep red and lavender flames raced upwards and formed a sphere of light. It hung there for a moment, threatening them both with hope, then it faded, shimmering away into nothing. It hadn't felt their daughter in Storybrooke.

"She's not here." What little hope she had left faded from Mal's face and her voice echoed that misery.

Regina touched her shoulder, wishing again that she could do something, anything. "That doesn't mean she's not out there."

"In the land without magic, where even the precious saviour's childhood was a hell of foster homes and life on the streets. Do you know what the streets are like out there? What she might have gone through? She could have died alone, out there, thinking no one loved her."

Regina started to apologise again but it died on her lips. If Mal's baby had been in the Enchanted Forest when the Dark Curse had been cast, then she'd be here. Even if she had died, her remains would have tripped the spell and they would have found her. Nearly all the realm had been pulled into the curse, save what Cora had been able to protect. Mal's daughter hadn't been there. "How could she have gotten out of the Enchanted Forest?"

Mal paced in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. "How did your saviour get to the outside world?" She asked the question with the kind of bitterness that suggested she knew the answer. 

Regina sat down, because keeping step with Mal was exhausting. "Her parents sent her through a magical wardrobe that could only hold two. The Blue Fairy and Gepetto lied so it was Pinnochio and Emma who went, not Emma and her mother."

Mal nodded and kept walking. "What happened to it?"

"The wardrobe?" Regina asked. "It was destroyed in the Enchanted Forest. Snow and Emma used what was left of its ashes to transport themselves here."

"So it could be used more than once."

"The Blue Fairy told them--"

Mal hissed, turning from the fire with her teeth bare. "The fairies twist and manipulate the facts to keep their power. Don't you get it? Emma was not the first child to pass through that tree."

Regina's heart thudded in her chest. She reached for Mal's shoulders and caught her. "Snow and Charming sent your- our- daughter to the land without magic?"

Mal grabbed Regina's arms in return, digging her fingers in through Regina's shirt. Her grip stung and Regina clung to the pain. "The fairies had one of their prophecies. 'One to darkness, one to light, two shall pass beyond magic's sight.' They must have taken it literally. The first would be dark, and the second light. That sanctimonious little princess sent my baby to a hell dimension in Maine so hers could be good. How good does she think it is to kidnap a child from her cradle?"

Regina's throat closed up. "They took her from your castle?"

"They took her from her bed, Regina. They took her so--" Maleficent broke off, fighting free of Regina's grip and quivering with rage. "They took her and I haven't been able to close my eyes without hearing her screaming as they took her away."

"They saw her as the child of a villain," Regina realised. "They must have thought she'd be dark anyway--"

Maleficent continued to pace, the rattle clutched so tightly in her hand that it made no sound as she moved. "She was a baby. She could have been as dull as the shepherd prince, prophecies aren't worth the parchment they're scrawled on."

Regina's thoughts flew, trying to keep up. "But Pinnochio went through the wardrobe--"

"And the fairies lied about the magic. You know as well as I do that magic is unpredictable. The only constant-"

"Is the price," Regina finished. Her throat was nearly too tight to speak. Was it anger? Grief? Would she wake up tomorrow ready to annihilate the Charmings all over again? "They used our daughter to pay it."

Mal shut her eyes and tried to steady herself. For a moment, dragon scales rippled beneath her skin. The deep blackness gathered at her feet. She'd always had trouble staying in human form when she was furious. Reaching for her shoulders, Regina breathed with her, trying to help her calm.

"Snow wouldn't dare do something that-"

"Evil?" Mal asked. She shivered, as if her inner fire was faltering, or perhaps it was burning too hard, then wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to calm.

Looking at Mal's chest, Regina remembered the darkness staining Snow's heart like a bruise. Had it been there before Cora's death? Had it been growing within her since before the curse? Darkness could whisper for years, growing in shadows. She'd thought the pain of Cora's death was over, but it throbbed again, adding to the agony of her lost daughter.

"I thought Snow's heart became stained when she killed my mother," Regina said, trying to put her thoughts in order as she spoke. "My mother was dark, and cruel, but she didn't have her heart. If she'd had her heart back in her chest, she might have realised what she was doing, stopped chasing power."

Mal leaned against the fireplace, meeting Regina's eyes. "But Snow killed her."

Regina nodded, trying to keep the memory quiet so she could concentrate on the present. "She traded her life for Rumplestiltskin's."

"Poor trade," Mal muttered. She'd never been fond of the imp. "Taking a life that could be saved is an evil act, even if the life is-"

"Evil." Regina interrupted.

This time Mal touched her cheek to comfort Regina. "I was going to say excruciatingly ambitious and self-involved."

In spite of herself, she leaned into Mal's hand. It felt so good to be touched again. "So Snow--"

"Committed her second evil act when she took Cora's life." Mal finally sank into her chair, curling up with her knees close to her chest. "She is selfish, and that's what this second-rate storyteller punishes. He makes us suffer for the wrongs we do, the lives we take, but what he really relishes are our selfish acts. Those are the ones we truly suffer for."

"How do you know?" Regina had to wonder. Mal had never mentioned meeting the Author, but she was old, as old as the fairies and there were many things she never brought up.

"Please, the poorly literate, crudely plodding moron who scratched out the drivel we live in is as predictable as he is narratively inept." She toyed with the rattle again, shaking it slowly even though every sound it made seemed to slice at her. "The greatest wrong inflicted on Snow and Charming was the loss of their child. Their greatest pain, they exacted on another. I certainly am no innocent, but my child was. Our Author, however blundering, will make them pay for that." She took a deep, shuddering breath and met Regina's gaze. "I only need wait."

It was still her fault. If it hadn't been for the Dark Curse, the Charmings never would have needed the wardrobe, never would have tested the prophecy, and taken Maleficent's daughter. "I'm sorry that my desire for revenge led us here. If I had listened--"

Mal's lips curved into a smile, a real one. "You never listen to me."

Regina shook her head. "I Don't. I didn't. If I had--"

"Come here." Mal waved her over, then reached for her face with warm, gentle hands. "I know you never listened to me, and you should have. You know that I blame Rumplestiltskin for his plan, for moulding you into casting that terrible curse. You lost yourself for a long time, but I see you here. You're Regina again." Mal smoothed her hair back, resting her thumbs on Regina's cheeks. "It's good to see that."

Mal's lips were bare, and close, then so warm against Regina's. They always had been. She still tasted faintly of smoke when they kissed. For a moment, Regina was a world away, back before the curse, before Henry, before she lost herself. The dampness on Mal's face brushed against Regina's own. She leaned against her, almost hungrily, almost too close, and then they parted.

"The curse that brought us here is still far darker than you or I, but this place is good for you, Regina." Mal kissed her forehead, gently, and held her. "You have your son, and you have a home here."

"You can, too," Regina whispered. Mal could fit in here. She could be happy. There had to be a way to give her a happy ending. "Henry's looking for the Author, he can--"

"Of course, dear," Mal agreed. She pulled back, retreating towards her chair. "Do keep me apprised of your findings."

"And Emma's already looking--"

Mal nodded, but the deep sorrow was back in her expression, gnawing her from within. "I know." She sank into her thoughts, brooding over the fire. Regina knew better than to try and get anything more out of her in this state, and her thoughts already reeled. She touched Mal's shoulder once more, then teleported away.

* * *

Back in her office, Regina sat at her desk and didn't work. She scanned the blank books Henry had left out, then had to push them back before she marked any of them with her tears. She didn't know this child, but her absence cut deep. Regina kept thinking of Henry, of how hard it would be to live without him. She stood, brushed her hands across her dress, and reached for her coat. She'd get coffee and come back. Maybe it would be easier with something in her hands.

On her way out of the office, she nearly ran into Emma. She held two coffees in her hands and smiled. There was so much hope in that smile. Regina didn't know how she managed it; Emma's presence in her office was so very welcome at that moment.

"Hey, Henry said you didn't sleep much." Emma shrugged and guided Regina back into her office. "Thought you might need this."

Regina followed the coffee with her eyes, deeply grateful for Emma. "I didn't intend to wake him."

"You didn't," Emma insisted. She walked straight up to Regina's desk, setting down the coffee and a white bag that most certainly held something far too sugary. "He just said that you made his lunch early and you do that when you can't sleep."

Regina took the white paper cup of coffee and held it tight as she shut the door so they were alone. Emma sat on the edge of her desk, lazily comfortable even when Regina felt out of place. "He's getting far too observant for his own good."

"Maybe he'll grow up to be a detective," Emma said. She pulled Regina's black gloves out of her pocket and set them on the desk. "You left these."

Regina sipped her coffee, trying to let the familiar, bitter taste pull her back to the current reality. "Thanks."

"Guess what," Emma began, oddly cheerful. 

"I abhor guessing games." 

Emma rolled her eyes, and somehow that made Regina smile, as if she'd been waiting for her to come lift her burdens. "Look." Concentrating for a moment, Emma disappeared from existence, vanishing into white smoke.

She popped back a moment later, somewhat sheepishly right next to Regina. "Sorry."

"You can teleport?"

Emma returned to Regina's desk, sitting down and opening the white bakery bag. "Maleficent taught me."

Regina raised her eyebrows, and not just at the bear claw Emma pulled from the bag. "She did?"

"Yeah," Emma almost sounded surprised. "She started explaining it, and I thought I wasn't getting it at all, then I was in front of your house-"

"My house?" Regina interrupted. She tried not to smile, and failed, because Mal teaching Emma was something she really wanted to see. 

"Yeah, I'm not very good at figuring out where I should be. I miss, but I tend to miss in one piece, so it's not all bad." Emma took a bite and sighed happily, probably from the sugar coma she was about to fall into. She chewed, swallowed, then continued. "I end up in front of your house a lot, actually, but I'm working on it."

Regina smiled before she knew what her lips were doing. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

Emma smiled again, so proud of herself. "I got you a bear claw, I know you probably don't want it, but sugar helps keep you awake and it kinda makes you feel better when you're miserable." Emma held out the bag and Regina reached for it.

"I'm not--"

Emma shrugged. "You know, it's okay to be miserable."

Regina sank against the desk, leaning next to Emma. "I'm not miserable- at least, I don't think so- it's not all--" she stopped because she wasn't making any sense as she babbled. "Part of me isn't miserable. I have a child. I mean, I have Henry, but--"

"That hasn't been the most comfortable relationship, has it? You've almost lost him, and sent him away to try and keep him safe. You're his mother, but you've had to fight for that." Emma's fingers reached for her arm, and even though they were probably sticky with glaze, Regina didn't pull away. 

"It seems I'll have to fight for this child as well." 

"Hey," Emma left the desk and turned in front of Regina, putting herself directly in her gaze. "We'll find her. I've already started looking, and we'll have Belle help, and my parents. We'll get her back."

Regina gulped her coffee, but she couldn't swallow. She almost choked, then forced herself to breathe.

"It's okay," Emma insisted. "It'll be okay. We'll find her." She lifted Regina's chin, drawing her eyes to her own. "Trust me. Finding people is kind of my thing."

Nodding was easier than speaking, so Regina stayed quiet. Emma's eyes were so full of hope and good intentions that it stung to look at her.

"Did you go see Maleficent?" Emma asked. 

Regina bobbed her head, and shut her eyes long enough to be certain they weren't going to tear up again.

"Is she okay?"

Another nod, but Regina stopped and shrugged. "I don't know what she's going to do."

Emma dropped her hands to Regina's shoulders, as if realising how close they were. "She didn't seem like she wants to hurt anyone."

"She doesn't. She's not-" Regina stopped and sighed, sinking into familiar self-recrimination. "she's not like me." 

"Hey, that's not you anymore, remember?" Emma's hands squeezed her shoulders, and her smile was so warm. "What can we do to help?"

"She'll retreat," Regina began. She didn't want to betray how destroyed Maleficent was, but she knew Emma wouldn't hurt her. She could be honest. "She won't be able to leave town, but Cruella and Ursula might. They'll probably help her try to find the child. You might want to talk to them. They can difficult, but they're close to her. They'll try to help."

Emma nodded and took a step back. She picked up her coffee again. "Okay, what are they like?"

"Sarcastic, self-involved, mostly harmless. Watch Cruella with animals, she can bend them to her will. Ursula has her tentacles, but she shouldn't have any issues with you. You haven't crossed paths with either of them before so as long as you can put up with their sarcasm, you'll be fine. They're probably both after their happy endings, and though I can't imagine what that would be for either of them, I doubt they mean any harm. Maleficent always kept them in line. They're nothing the Saviour shouldn't be able to handle."

Emma took another bite of her bear claw, then asked, "Do you have a past with them?"

Regina rolled her eyes this time. "You mean did we ride broomsticks around the Enchanted Forest, stealing children and puppies?"

Emma smirked around her pastry. She liked that idea. "Did you?"

Shaking her head, Regina tried to glare, but she couldn't. She did manage not to smile. "Of course not. Maleficent and I were close but I pushed her away to pursue my revenge. They were friends with her, still are. I think trying to resist my curse drove them together."

Emma accepted that and finished the last huge bite of her pastry. "So what are we going to call it?"

"Call what?"

"Operation Dragon Baby."

"Please," Regina said. She took another sip of her coffee. Giving the search a name almost made it too real. 

"Henry will want to call it something."

Regina stared at her lipstick marks on the white plastic lid of her coffee cup. What was Henry going to think? "I don't know how to tell him."

"I thought we'd tell him together, if you want," Emma offered. "Might be easier if he had both parents reminding him that just because he has a half-sibling, we still love him."

This was such a strange conversation to have with Emma. Regina reached into the bag and the sticky-sweet bear claw was in her hand before she even thought about what she had done. She took a bite and chewed mechanically. Maybe the sugar would help keep her heart from racing.

"I still don't know how it happened." 

Emma remained next to her, still patient. "How you got Maleficent pregnant or how two women in the Enchanted Forest would make a baby?"

"The latter's fairly simple between magical beings. When you have sex you're very open to the other person, vulnerable, and part of your essence can be exchanged. Forgive the crude metaphor, but if the seed is fertile and the field receptive, something can grow."

Emma smirked a little but her question was genuinely confused. "But how do you know who's what?"

Regina wished there was some book she could just thrust at Emma and not have to explain, but she didn't have anything. She hated not having the answers, but being irritated with Emma was always a different kind of frustration. Something she didn't yet understand. "Honestly, I'm not sure I understand it. Maleficent will be able to tell you, if you really must know the specifics."

"I don't," Emma said, flushing slightly pink. "I don't need to know." She feigned interest in her coffee cup, then drank. "I'm just curious."

Regina fought a smile. She would enjoy seeing that conversation. "You might want to phrase it better when you ask Maleficent. She can be a little touchy."

"I won't ask."

"I didn't say you couldn't ask, just perhaps you should try to employ more tact than usual." 

Taking another sip of her coffee, Emma shrugged. "It's not like I was going to run up to her house and demand an explanation of magical fertility. I just, well, it's kind of cool, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure that's exactly the word."

Emma grinned, finally showing her excitement. "You made a baby, with a dragon, that's, well, that's almost more bizarre than anything in the book." 

"She's not a dragon," Regina paused to correct herself, "well, not all the time."

"A part time dragon," Emma said, smirking. "Your ex is a part-time dragon."

"She's very-"

"Hot?" Emma was far too pleased with herself. 

Regina took her bearclaw with her behind the desk and sat in her chair, putting space between her and Emma's grin. She was not going to dignify that with a response.

"What was it like?" Emma continued to prod.

"I can't believe even you would ask that."

"Not that," Emma groaned, rolling her eyes. "Did you fly together? Do magic? Was it like dating a pilot?"

Regina took a breathe to steady herself, then fought through her reluctance and answered that they'd flown together often. After that, Emma kept asking. Her questions were gentle, nothing too intimate or pressing, but she needed to know about Regina and Maleficent. To her surprise, Regina found it easy to talk. She said little about Leopold, because he was Emma's grandfather and there were things that she wouldn't say, but Emma understood why that was such a quiet subject. Regina finished her coffee and finally found words that shared how precious her time with Maleficent had been when her life had been so hopeless. 

Emma sat across from her and listened, even when she'd run out of coffee and she didn't need to keep asking questions for Regina's memories to flow. 

"How did it stop?" Emma asked, once Regina's stories had stopped. 

"I wanted revenge and I let it consume me. The last time I saw her, I immobilised her and stole the Dark Curse. She didn't want me to cast it. Mal fought me, but I knew her weakness and exploited it." Regina sighed, dropping her hands to the desk. She stared at her fingers, then looked up at Emma. "I don't know if I would have stopped then if I knew. Even if she'd begged me not to cast the curse because of our baby, I would have ignored her, because I wanted my revenge."

"And you got it."

Regina looked up, waiting for recrimination to appear in Emma's face. Instead of that, Emma's hands grabbed her own and held hers tight. 

"And it's over. Henry's okay. The town's safe. My mom and dad have the little guy and you, you're not the big bad evil queen any more," Emma reminded her. She squeezed Regina's hands, sharing her optimism. "In fact, I can't think of anything other than the Chernobog trying to kill us lately. We might even be okay for awhile." 

Regina wondered if she should pull her hands back, but Emma hadn't let go. "Don't say that," Regina said. "You'll tempt fate."

Emma made a face but smiled, because she had to agree. "Or the Author, wherever he is." 

Staring at their interlocked hands for a moment, Regina looked up at Emma's eyes. Emma never looked like she was going to retreat and she was so stubborn. Regina had hated that, before, when Emma wouldn't leave town. Now, she was grateful for it. She didn't know how to express her gratitude or whatever else she felt for Emma. That had always been so difficult for her and it was almost harder now because she didn't know what to call it. Emma made her life better, just standing in her presence. How could she say anything like that without sounding like an idiot?

Emma released her hands with a final squeeze. "Hey, cheer up, we'll find your daughter." 

"Find her?" Regina repeated, trying to cling to Emma's hope. "How?"

"Finding people is what I do," Emma reminded her. She seemed so certain. How did she do that? Regina had never believed in anyone. She'd never had cause to believe anyone would help her. Mal was one of the few to be kind to her and all that had gotten her was pain. "It runs in the family." Emma's smile faded just a little, softening into concern. "Don't worry, okay?"

Emma's optimism, like her smile, was absolutely contagious and did something warm to the pit of her stomach that Regina wasn't sure she was ever going to understand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Race is amazing. She just is. So much love.

Regina’s sound sleep shattered along with her front door. Whomever, whatever, it was, broke down the door and destroyed her morning's peace. Splinters of wood clattered in her entryway and sent Regina’s heart straight into her throat. Still in her nightgown, acting purely on instinct she teleported downstairs, hands already curling into fists as she pulled forth her fire even before she finished materialising.

Whoever it was wasn’t going to get her without a fight. Not only had they dared attack her home, they were stupid enough to do it when she was still nursing a hangover. 

Emma had stayed late last night, in no shape to leave long after they'd finished the bottle of whiskey. She'd been trying to help, showing Regina everything she'd found so far, which sadly, wasn’t much. The long list of abandoned babies in the Northeast had been a knife to Regina’s heart, and the whiskey hadn't been able to dull the pain she felt thinking about all those children. How was she supposed to know which one? Why were there so many? What if no one had found her daughter and she was just lost…forever?

The sight that greeted her within the remains of her door, however, drowned Regina's anger like frigid water.

Ursula and Cruella stood on her stoop and Maleficent lay unconscious in Ursula's tentacles. Her hair hung limp, out of the neat updo she'd worn the last time Regina had seen her and her arms hung free, elegant fingers lax as if she were dead. 

The burning heat of anger gave way to icy cold of fear and Regina’s heart beat a staccato rhythm against her ribs. The pain in her head was suddenly, utterly unimportant. "What happened?" she gasped, staring in horror at Maleficent’s form. 

"She went over the line," Cruella said, growling the words like one of her Rottweilers. "We told her that it wouldn't work, that she couldn't just leave."

"We tried to warn her," Ursula added, shaking her head. "She wouldn't listen to us, like usual."

Gathering her scattered wits, Regina shook herself then motioned to the other women. "Over here," she said, leading them into the kitchen. 

Ursula put Maleficent's limp body on the table, unusually gentle. "She wouldn't stop. She said she was sick of waiting for the Author to show himself. She wanted her child," Ursula explained, still hovering over Maleficent's body. 

"I don't know what happened," Cruella continued. "She was fine for a few steps, then she just collapsed."

"We had to drag her back over," Ursula finished, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture Regina knew hid real fear. "I knew something bad would happen, but we weren't sure what. Cruella and I were both fine on the outside without our magic. Rumple gets his limp back but she should have been at least functional. This was like someone flipped a switch and--" 

That explained the leaves and twigs in Maleficent's hair. It didn't explain why her skin was ice cold, her eyes rolled back into her head and her pulse only a weak vibration beneath Regina's fingertips. "We need her spellbook.” 

"I assumed you have it, darling," Cruella replied. She took off her fur coat and laid it over Maleficent's still body, and the motion was gentle. Whatever else was under the dramatic makeup and mannerisms, both Cruella and Ursula genuinely cared about Maleficent. "That's why we're here."

"It's in my vault," Regina answered, hoping her memory was reliable and what she needed was actually contained within the book’s pages. "Ursula, would you--?"

"I'll get it." The woman nodded, heading for the door before Regina could even finish, let alone hand her the key to the crypt door. 

"And the black chest that's with it," Regina called after Ursula’s retreating figure. She moved unnaturally fast for a woman with supposedly only two legs. Regina rolled her eyes, she should have known Ursula would just break in without assistance. Correct methods of entering people’s property, however, was a conversation for another time, when Maleficent wasn't on the verge of returning to death. 

Regina turned to the dog whisperer. "Cruella, we need Emma Swan."

"The Saviour?" One of Cruella’s eyebrows tried to join her dark hair. 

Regina nodded, filling her biggest pot with water and setting it to boil on the stove. She left the kitchen and threw all of her clean towels into the dryer, setting it on high so they'd warm up. Cruella followed her, waiting for an explanation. 

"Emma has a lot of raw magical potential. We'll need it." 

She expected a barbed comment but it appeared Cruella really did care, because she simply nodded and headed out without her coat, or a complaint about being sent on an errand.

Alone again, Regina turned to the too-still figure lying on her kitchen table. Taking Maleficent's face in her hands, she slapped the icy cold cheek, in what she knew was likely a vain effort to shake the unconscious woman around. "Come on,” Regina growled. Maleficent’s cheek didn't even redden, her blood barely seemed to be moving through her veins. 

Silently berating herself for daring to hope it might be that easy, Regina turned back to her preparations, searching the distant edges of her memory for what ingredients of the spell she could recall.

Opening one cupboard, Regina took down all red pepper flakes she had. She moved to the pantry, taking down far potent ingredients from the highest shelf. Setting them out on the counter, Regina tried to remember what proportions the spell called for but it had been decades since she’d read that particular passage. Some of what she needed were still vivid in her memory but others had faded. With a silent curse, she turned back and touched Mal's wrist to count seconds against her near-absent pulse for lack of anything better to do. 

When the water began to simmer, Regina turned back to the stove and started carefully measuring and adding those few ingredients she was sure of, and had on hand. She’d have to wait for Ursula to return for the rest. 

Emma and Cruella returned first. Cruella noticeably without complaint about the outside temperature, even though her slinky black oufit must have provided little warmth. 

"What happened?" Emma asked, eyes wide as she took in the mess from the door in the hallway and Maleficent on the table. Emma’s face was flushed as if she’d run and she was still in her coat and beanie.

"Maleficent went over the town line," Regina explained without detail. "Cruella, would you measure the fire salamander? I'd rather not destroy my kitchen." 

"Shouldn't she just lose her memories or be prevented from coming back to the town or something?" Emma wondered aloud, taking off her gloves, she touched Maleficent's bare wrist. "Regina--" Emma trailed off, concern pulling the corners of her mouth down.

"I know," Regina said, trying to keep her voice level rather than showing the panic that had been threatening to take hold ever since she’d seen Mal lifeless in Ursula’s grasp. 

"Should we get her to the hospital?" Emma asked, but she seemed to know the answer to the question before she finished. 

"They won't be able to do anything. You, the Dog Catcher, the Fish and I have magic, and when we go over the town line we lose it. We're all okay without it. Rumplestiltskin's is more integrated into his being, when he goes over he's no longer the Dark One, and he loses some of the spring in his step. Maleficent, more than any of us, is her magic. Without it, it's like something went out inside of her."

"Regina, we'll need gargoyle blood," Cruella reminded her. Dropping pieces of fire salamander into the boiling water, Cruella took out the next glass bottle and started to measure the Ifrit ashes. The combination of fiery herbs and magical ingredients made the air sting Regina's nose as the steam rose.

"Your twitchy girlfriend should be bringing it from the vault," Regina snapped in her direction, fear gnawing at her and shortening her temper even more than usual. Emma still stood next to her, one hand on Maleficent's wrist, the other on Regina's shoulder. 

"Okay Regina, what can we do?" Emma’s fingers tightened on her shoulder and Regina sucked in a breath, forcing herself to be calm. When she looked up at Emma, the other woman’s eyes were so green, her expression so incredibly earnest. It helped. Only a little but something fluttered in Regina's stomach that wasn't fear. 

"Cruella's working on a dragon's breath potion which we should be able to complete when Ursula gets back. To be honest, it's always been a little beyond my abilities, even now," Regina paused, then looked right into Emma's concerned green eyes. "I'll need your help." 

"Yeah, of course," Emma said, without even asking what she'd agreed to do. "Will it bring her back?"

"It worked before, sort of. There was a tree she had burned with dragon fire, and it was still burning after years, and breathing that in brought her magic back. If we can make the potion work, and get it into her, somehow, she should be able to warm herself back up." Regina stared down at Mal's unconscious face again. Her lips were still blue, but that was a little better than grey. "I'll kill you myself if you don't come back," Regina whispered. 

"Hey," Emma said, leaning closer to Regina, thumb making small circles on the point of her shoulder. "It'll be okay."

Ursula's tentacles reached into the kitchen with the little black chest and Maleficent's silver spellbook well before her body followed after them and Regina felt Emma repress a shudder. Under other circumstances it might have made her smile. Instead, she just snatched the book as Cruella took the chest. Emma gave Ursula’s tentacles – now vanished beneath her coat – one last look, then turned to read over Regina's shoulder. She turned the pages in a rush, her fingers clumsy with worry. The spell they needed was on the second to last page, right before the complex ritual that unlocked the true power of the dragon. 

"Here it is," Regina said, handing the book over to Ursula, who helped Cruella find the rest of the ingredients. The potion had ceased to be a spicy soup and had turned into a red-orange goo. It bubbled and hissed, as if lava had been captured in the pot. While it continued to cook, Emma grabbed the hot towels out of the dryer and they started piling them on top of Maleficent, beneath Cruella's heavy coat. 

"Careful with that-" Ursula said, peering over Cruella's shoulder. "Too much of that and we'll all be in pieces on the next block.

"I am being careful," Cruella argued. "You're the one who--"

Regina tuned them out, took Maleficent's cold hand between hers in a warm towel and started rubbing. Emma did the same on the other side of the table. It seemed foolish, but they needed to do something while they waited.

The potion finally started to lick upwards in the pot, like daggers of fire. Regina destroyed her own smoke alarm with a flick of her wrist when it started to scream a warning, and they moved outside. Emma carried all the blankets they could grab from Regina's spare room. Cruella had the potion, which now had to be contained with a heavy metal lid. Ursula carried Maleficent, her tentacles tender as they held her aloft. 

It was cold outside, the air crisp and damp, but it wouldn't be for long. Regina handed Emma the big metal soup ladle and paused, trying to read Emma's face. "I can try first, if you want."

"Try what?" Emma asked, her eyes wide with concern. "What's going to happen?"

"One of us needs to drink that, then when your lungs fill with fire, breathe it into Maleficent's body," Regina sat on the damp ground, not even thinking about how thin her pyjamas were. They put two blankets beneath Maleficent and laid the other one on top. Holding her head in her lap, Regina tilted her head back and held her throat open. 

The pot of potion had already started to scorch the grass where it sat. Emma stared at it, then turned back to Regina. "You've tried this?"

"A long time ago I burnt myself rather badly, I was still struggling with my magic back then, it wasn’t strong enough. Maleficent healed me, then, obviously that won't--" Regina trailed off. She wasn't willing to lose her. Not now. Not when they had a chance of getting their daughter back. Mal had to see her. She had to live for that. 

"Well, I'm supposed to be tough, right? I'll try first and if it doesn't work, you can heal me." Emma looked at Maleficent, then up at Regina and decided. Her fear faded from her eyes and her jaw set in a line. "What do I do, say something? Think something?"

“You need to drink the potion and then breathe the fire back into Maleficent. This isn’t just any flame, it has to be living.” Regina said.

Emma glanced uneasily at the smoking pot. 

Regina had to tell her. "There are side effects."

"Other than burns?" Emma asked, not veiling her fear.

"It's dragon's fire. A living flame that carries much of the power of a dragon with it," Regina paused, tensing her hands. "You could lose yourself, for awhile. It is temporary and you will come back, but you might not be you, for awhile."

Emma's trust never wavered, and neither did her gaze. "But I'll come back?"

"It doesn't last more than a few hours," Regina promised. "You don't have to. I'm much stronger than I was then, I'm sure I can-"

Holding up a hand, Emma stopped her. "Look, if I screw up, you can heal me, then try. If you screw up, I can't heal you and we might lose you both. Besides, I'm the Saviour, remember? Maybe I can save dragons too." She brought her hand to Regina's shoulder and squeezed. "I can do this, you're here." 

Regina nearly missed the knowing look between Cruella and Ursula as they pulled back to a safe distance. 

"Find your inner dragon, darling," Cruella advised, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. The words were slightly mocking but the advice was actually quite sound. 

"Focus," Ursula added. "Nothing gets you burnt faster than not paying attention."

“Find your magic like you’ve learned,” Regina said softly, watching Emma close her eyes and take a deep breath. When she opened them, Regina could see the soft glow of power just beneath Emma’s skin. She really was getting better. Good, now think of your strengths,” Regina said softly. “Think about what you care about and what you want to accomplish. I'll be right here.”

And Emma, brave, stupid Emma who was utterly willing to rush headlong into danger to protect those around her just nodded. Her hand touched Regina's elbow and again, something fluttered in Regina's stomach. "I know."

Emma nodded to Cruella and handed her the soup ladle. In a way, it was ridiculous, opening the pot like they were at a chili cookout, but fire blasted from the beneath the lid. It raged in front of them, crawling all over the ladle like a furious living thing as Emma held it up. It stank of sulfur, smoke and charcoal, overwhelming everything else. Emma shut her eyes for a second to centre herself, but kept them wide open as she drank. She coughed, choking, and fell forward onto her hands. Fire rolled down her chin, burning marks into her clothing and singeing the grass beneath her. Emma swallowed. She writhed for a moment, shaking as fire consumed her. 

When she looked up, her eyes gleamed, even in the weak daylight. Regina held Maleficent's mouth open, willing her to be able to accept the fire Emma offered. Emma bent low over her mouth, and their lips touched. Fire crackled around their mouths, but most of it went deep into Maleficent's chest. Emma sat up, gasping as if her lungs had been completely drained of air. She took a breath, then nodded to Cruella for the ladle again. This time, Emma only coughed once, and fire licked up from her nostrils. She bent low over Maleficent again, closing their lips together and pouring more fire into her lungs. Maleficent's fingers twitched on the blanket. Emma took another drink, and breathed in more. This time Maleficent seemed to move towards her, breathing in the fire she offered. 

Emma poured fire into Maleficent's mouth with her own twice more. Maleficent lay still, and her pulse finally started to beat again. Regina wiped trailing fire from her mouth, then slapped her. 

This time a reddish mark rose on her cheek, following the sharp sound of Regina's hand against her skin. Emma, who radiated heat like a bonfire, scooped the potion into her hands, which had become immune to the fire for the moment. She began rubbing it into Maleficent's skin. It sank in, leaving smoke behind as it disappeared into her flesh. Emma kept rubbing, working as if some kind of instinct that wasn't her own had taken over. Regina and Ursula helped strip Maleficent's clothing before it all burned away. The blankets smoked a little, but they held the fire in long enough for Maleficent's body to pull it inwards. Emma finally rocked back, her own clothes nearly burned away from her glowing flesh. Her eyes raged with flame. Stumbling back as if she'd lost control of her own body, she threw back her head and roared, spitting fire high into the sky above Regina's apple trees. 

The sight stirred something deep inside Regina, something she’d tried very hard to keep buried. Regina yearned to touch Emma then, to feel the fire dancing under the surface of her skin and she couldn’t. It was too dangerous. For her, for Emma, and for Maleficent, who was still not awake and needed to be tended.

It took far too much effort for Regina to turn way from a now panting – though no longer breathing fire – Emma and help Ursula bundle Mal into blankets so she could be taken upstairs.

And even though it was Ursula who carried Maleficent, Emma kept finding ways to touch the unconscious woman, her eyes, still so full of fire, fixed on Mal’s sleeping form, as if she was forgetting the other women existed. Regina saw Ursula and Cruella sharing a glance. The side effects had already started to take hold of Emma.

They said nothing though and Regina forced herself to focus on Mal for the moment. Emma was strong, she would survive this.

The question was, whether Regina would.

* * *

Inside Regina's guest room, they tucked Maleficent into bed and then simply moved out of the way. As Regina had guessed, Emma crawled in after her immediately, wrapping herself around the Mal’s sleeping form as if it belonged to her. Emma still radiated heat, and Maleficent needed the warmth, but Regina watched Emma’s restless gaze and her hands trembled. Emma fidgeted, toying with Mal's hair, the edge of the covers, whatever she could reach. She heated the room like a furnace and didn’t seem to feel any of it, and in the dim light of the bedroom, Emma’s eyes shone, flames dancing in her green irises. Carefully, moving slowly so as not to startle her, Regina settled on the edge of the bed, Emma’s eyes flicked to her, then back to where Cruella and Ursula stood, leaning against the wall as far from the crackling heat of Emma as possible while still in the room. 

Then Maleficent began to tremble and Emma stopped paying attention to anyone else.

It was a good sign, Mal responding like a hypothermia victim, and shivering was good, but Emma growled low and soft in her throat, muscles tense and eyes burning as her entire attention was taken up by the woman in her arms. Emma wrapped around her, protecting her as if she were a horde of jewels. Mal’s eyes still hadn't opened, and her trembling worsened before it improved.

At one point, Ursula stepped away from the wall toward the bed and Emma growled, the sound rumbling low in her chest and reverberating through the room. It was not a sound a human throat could have made. Ursula nodded in satisfaction and stepped back, but Regina had to swallow several times to get her voice to work. 

"It's all right,"Regina whispered to calm her. "She's safe with us. We won't hurt her."

"And here I thought it might take more than a little dragon's breath to bring out the possessive side in the little princess," Cruella remarked. She stepped away from the wall and started going through Regina's drawers, presumably looking for something to change Mal and Emma into instead of their ruined clothing. 

"That was hardly a little dragon's breath," Ursula said. She held some of the diluted potion up, sealed tight in a jar for later. "That much would have roasted you or I from the inside, probably Regina too."

Regina let them talk, their familiar bickering fading into the background. Emma was her whole focus now. Emma who shifted restlessly and whose shoulders moved as if searching for the wings that weren’t there. Emma who held Mal's head against her chest and bared her teeth at Regina, but relaxed when she didn't get too close. 

"It's all right," Regina sought to assure her again. "We just want to look after her." Regina wanted more than that. She wanted to touch Emma, feel the heat of her skin, knowing instinctively that their magic would combine, rushing together like two steams meeting, heady and potent."Is she mine?" Emma asked, her voice guttural and deep in her chest. "She feels like mine."

"She's a friend," Regina answered, temporising. For some reasons she couldn't place, she was jealous of Emma or Maleficent, perhaps of both of them and the way they were entwined so tightly together. It had been so long since anyone had held Regina like that. Rationally, she knew the situation wouldn’t last. It was only temporary. The magic would wear off and Emma would be _Emma_ again, awkward and brave, too caring and far too appealing in her own, so very human ways, but not a dragon, not channeling fire in her veins.

All Regina had to do was resist the almost magnetic pull Emma gave off with every wave of heat.

Regina didn’t remember it ever being this bad with Maleficent and someday when there was time she would ponder whether that was due to Maleficent’s nature, or her own changing desires, but that would have to wait.

Cruella and Ursula continued to talk. Their easy conversation about how none of Regina's pyjames were going to fit Maleficent, and the promise of breakfast, helped remind Regina that the worst of it was over. Maleficent's shivering had slowed, her breathing was calm now, and as she lay in Emma's arms, she could have been sleeping.

Now they just had to wait for Emma.

And then Emma shattered all of Regina’s careful distance with a single question. She ran one hand over Maleficent's bare arm, following the same path, as if marking her with her fingertips. Regina’s eyes followed the hypnotic pattern, her own hands clenched in her lap to keep from reaching out. She was so busy staying still and not upsetting Emma she didn’t realise that she was being watched. 

"Are you mine, then?" Emma asked. It was soft and curious, almost innocent, but the rumble of ‘other’ of ‘dragon’ still echoed somewhere below the human range of hearing, making the air shiver and taking Regina’s breath away. Startled, she looked up, straight into Emma’s fire-filled gaze.

Behind her, Ursula listened to something Cruella whispered and chuckled. After sharing a look, they left the bedroom. "To get something for everyone to eat, darling," Cruella explained. Regina barely heard her. She didn't care where they were going, or even that they were most likely about to rummage through her kitchen, have someone deliver food, or somehow make a mess. None of it mattered.

Maleficent was alive and healing, fast asleep in Emma's arms, and Emma stared at Regina in a way that left no doubt as to what the answer to her question was. With Cruella and Ursula gone, it was just them. Regina stared at Maleficent's still face first, almost willing her to wake and help her deal with the dragon she'd dredged up in Emma. She'd know what to do, because all Regina wanted was thoroughly inappropriate. She wanted to surrender, to let Emma take her, own her, to hear Emma's draconic whisper of possession and reply that she was, that she'd always be, hers. 

“Are you mine?” Emma asked again.

Regina closed her eyes, despairing. She’d hoped Emma might let the question go. She should have known she wasn’t that lucky.

Her throat was dry from fear. If she lied, Emma might sense it, might become angry. But if she told the truth, there was no telling what response it might trigger, or what the repercussions might be. She wasn’t even sure how much of this Emma would remember. There wasn’t a lot of precedent for the side effects of humans drinking dragon fire. 

Emma tilted her head just slightly and for a second Regina could have sworn she saw those soft pink lips stretch into a familiar smirk. If they did though, the expression was gone in an instant. 

It was still her undoing. "Yes," she whispered, hating herself for the weakness even as she couldn’t avoid it. Nearly losing Maleficent, seeing Emma like this, it was almost too much. She remembered so clearly what it had been like with Maleficent, how she’d been cared for and how gentle Mal had been. It was tangled up in her head with her complicated feelings for Emma and the pull of the dragon’s magic.

Thankfully, Emma merely smiled, her lips curling back from her teeth as if she had just confirmed something she had already known. And if that were true…Regina’s mind shied from the implications even as her heart lurched in her chest.

"Good,” Emma said simply, settling then and getting comfortable on the pillows, holding Mal's sleeping body close.

Regina let out a breath she had no awareness of holding.

Emma could have her, heart and body, when _she_ asked, not the dragon. 

Regina wasn't sure how long she'd sat there, listening to both of them breathing, watching Emma trace her fingertips over Mal's skin like claws over scales. Emma's eyes shut after some time, and they lay there, spooned together while Regina worried for them both. She couldn't leave them, even though her front door was still lying in ruins downstairs. She didn't know if they'd be safe. If she could count on Emma's to remain quiet and Maleficent to keep breathing. She lowered her hand to Mal's wrist, counting out a pulse that mirrored her own, firm and regular. 

Emma's fingers caught hers, the movement so quick that Regina gasped. The grip was tight, but not yet painfully so. "Was she yours?"

"Almost, a long time ago," Regina replied without thinking, Emma’s touch making her that much harder to keep her distance. And what was the point in lying now? She knew Emma – even without the dragon – had been wondering about her and Mal since the trio of witches had shown up. She owed Emma the truth of this, however the question was asked. And it was a question she still struggled with herself. Perhaps they could have been something wonderful together. Maybe she would have been able to find happiness with Mal and a child but… but their baby wouldn't have been Henry and a path without Henry was one Regina could never accept. The world needed her son as much as she and Emma did. 

"She smells of you," Emma said. Her voice still echoed with the other, the dragon side. She didn't seem angry, or jealous, simply taking stock of the situation. 

Then she pulled Regina's hand to her nose, turning her wrist and breathing deeply the scent of Regina’s skin, a low rumble rolling from her throat.

The unexpected touch and the sound set Regina’s heart racing even though she was still sitting on the bed. Regina couldn't smell anything other than the remnants of the potion and scorched blankets, but Emma must have found something in the scent, because she smiled. It was not a wholly human smile, and yet even now there was something familiar about the line of Emma’s mouth, the quirk of those pink lips and the flash of teeth. 

Not letting go of Regina’s wrist, Emma slipped out of the blankets, turning Regina around and guiding her up, off the bed and back towards the wall. Her touch was gentle but her whole body radiated intensity and intent. Emma’s eyes lingered on her neck, her lips and her chest.

Suddenly, Regina’s back pressed against the cool surface of the wall.

Emma kept moving, slipping closer. 

"You don't smell of me," she whispered, her voice still echoing as if her chest were so much deeper than it was. 

She still radiated heat and magic and being next to her was like standing in the sun for too long. Regina’s knees melted, her heart pounding against her chest. She _yearned_. For what it hardly even seem to matter, only that she needed more. 

"We haven't," Regina managed, her throat dry and lips clumsy as she answered the unspoken question. "Our relationship… isn't like that." Her voice sounded weak, breathy, and Regina hated that she didn’t feel guilty about it. 

Hissing softly, Emma nipped at the air above Regina's neck. Her breath felt hot enough to blister, but Regina's skin didn't register pain. 

Emma wrinkled her nose and shook her head slowly. Regina couldn't help remembering Maleficent when she'd first met her, how she'd advanced so quickly, even in her drugged state. Maleficent had a violent temper and lightning quick moods. 

Even like this, though, Emma was different. There was a calm about her, the fire inside steady like the sun, and not wild like it had been with Maleficent. 

She didn't ask why they weren't closer, nor did she demand they rectify that problem now, immediately, up against the wall the way Regina's blood screamed that they should. But she didn’t back away. 

"I should mark you," Emma said, lips close to Regina’s neck, making it more of a promise than a threat. The way she pressed against Regina almost burned through her clothing. "I should make you mine." 

"Mark?" Regina’s voice cracked.

There was no malice in Emma's eyes. They still shone too bright, too green, almost alien, but Regina wasn't afraid. She didn't fear Emma's touch, or her marking, whatever that would entail. She probably should have been, but somewhere between the bed and having her shoulder blades pressed to the wall, she’d crossed a line. Her stomach flipped over, as if she were at the very top of a rollercoaster and she was all too aware of the heat building within her, a very human, non-magical kind of heat. Regina wanted Emma, all of her, even, or perhaps especially, this dragon driven side of her. 

There was a flash of very white teeth as Emma smiled. Her tongue danced just above the skin of Regina's neck, and Regina’s knees turned to water as understanding dawned. A mating bite, that’s what Emma wanted to mark her with. Mal had talked about it, warned her, and let her decide if she wanted to share herself that totally but Regina had held back then, already too bent on her revenge against Snow White to accept the possibility of what Maleficent was offering. 

Now she was faced with the same choice…and there was nothing standing in her way. Nothing but the knowledge that Emma might not truly be ready for this, that when the dragon born emotions inside her faded, this would be too much, and she’d run. Then again, Emma wasn't a full dragon. Perhaps the effects of the bite would only last for the next few hours.

Either way, it hardly mattered. Regina wanted everything. She wanted Emma's teeth on her skin, her claws on her flesh and no more of the frustrating separation of fabric between them. 

"Can I mark you?" Emma asked and something was different. Regina blinked, struggling to focus on Emma’s face, not just the feel of her body pressed against her. She was there, in green eyes that didn’t burn quite as brightly, in the tilt of her mouth and the emotion, the gentleness of the question. It wasn’t just the dragon. This was Emma, really Emma. She was still Emma, just brighter, stronger, and less afraid to make her feelings known. She was there, beneath; Regina could feel her.

The last of Regina’s resistance faded away like smoke on the wind and she nodded, her voice barely a moan when she replied. “Yes.” 

It was fast. Regina wasn’t expecting that. She’d thought…she wasn’t sure, but maybe that Emma would toy with her, tease her, but there was almost nothing, just the soft brush of lips against her skin and then a quick bright sting. She gasped, tensing against Emma but the other woman was already pulling back, just a little, too-hot lips nuzzling the line of Regina’s throat as Regina struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

Then Emma purred with approval and a kiss pressed into the corner of Regina's jaw.

“Mine.” Emma murmured softly against Regina’s skin. 

Reaching up haltingly, she brought her hand to her neck. Her fingertips came away red, though there were only a few drops of blood. Emma had human teeth, not the needle-like daggers that would fill the mouth of a true dragon, yet Regina's skin had been pierced. She was marked. Emma had been content just to hold Maleficent and touch her skin, hadn't needed to taste her. With Regina, she did. She wanted her blood, and now that she had it, Emma grinned and retreated to the bed again as if content to nest there. 

When she was gone, Regina shivered from the sudden loss of heat. She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself as she leant against the wall. 

"That can't be undone, you know." That voice was so weak that Regina barely heard it over her own rushing heartbeat. That wasn't Emma, because she was content on the pillows. Her eyes followed Regina, hungry and proud at the same time. She hadn't spoken. 

Mal's eyes fluttered, then opened wearily as if the lids were too heavy to lift at all. "So it was bad."

"You nearly got yourself killed," Regina said, surprised by the sharpness of her own reply. "The Squid turned up with your body, as if you'd been electrocuted."

"Sucked dry," Mal corrected. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and slowly became aware of the motion of her fingers. "I thought it might--"

"But you hoped you'd survive it?" Regina asked, caught between fury and relief. "You thought what, you'd become powerful enough not to need your magic?" 

"Perhaps become weak enough that I didn't," Mal answered. She moved her head the smallest amount, and Emma had to help her lift her chin. 

Regina sat back down on the edge of the bed, now welcomed by Emma's sniff of approval. She grabbed one of the jars of leftover potion and unscrewed the lid. Calling up a straw with magic from downstairs into her hand, she held it out to Mal as if she were Henry, home sick from school. 

Mal closed her lips slowly around the straw as if they were painful, or bruised. She managed a sip, then started to cough so violently that Emma had to hold her steady. The cough came deep from her chest and sounded wet, as if she'd been drowned in water instead of simply deprived of magic. 

Regina touched her cheek, sympathetic to her pain and making no effort to hide her concern."It'll be better if you drink this," Regina said. 

Mal fought to keep her eyes open, but somehow she clung to consciousness. Steam slipped from her lips as she exhaled. 

"You made dragon fire," Mal said. Her mouth moved slowly into a painful smile. "I'm...impressed."

"Emma, can you help me sit her up?" Regina asked, pulling back a little to give them room to move. Emma's expression turned suspicious again for a moment, but she helped arrange the pillows so Mal could be propped up on her own. Regina pulled the blanket up, because Mal's clothing had been burned to ash, and it didn't seem right to stare at her naked. Even though she'd been pressed so intimately against Emma, that was restorative. Now, she had started to return to herself and should be protected. 

Emma watched them both as if ready to pounce if they weren't civil to each other.

"Drink," Regina ordered, and Emma watched over her shoulder. Maleficent managed a few more sips before another coughing fit took her. This time she coughed up steam and something dark, like water mixed with charcoal. Wiping her mouth with a towel, Regina frowned. "I've never seen magic turn out this badly."

"Letting a flame go out does less damage than dousing the fire," Mal said, her voice a croak. Emma took the jar from Regina and held it up. Regina glanced around but there weren't any clothes in the guest room. Cruella had said something about getting something for Maleficent to wear, but perhaps they were still out. 

Emma muttered encouragement when Mal lost herself in coughing again. More dark water, like black ink, trickled from her lips, but Emma's hands were steady and calm as they held her. Regina watched her lean close, touching her forehead to Mal's and breathing with her when the coughing grew too pained. She was still Emma, underneath. She had to be. She still had Emma's compassion, her kindness, even mixed with the dragon. 

Even though Regina needed clothing, food, Maleficent's spell book and time to catch her breath, she could barely leave either of them. Mal's weakness tugged at her heart as Henry's had whenever he was ill, and something deeper, more wanting, couldn't bare to be out of Emma's sight. 

She couldn't leave. She waved her hand absently and summoned some of Maleficent's and Emma's clothing from their drawers with a thought. Emma had to help her dress Mal, because her limbs weren't responding and any time spent lying down just turned into more coughing. One of Regina's white towels was already soaked with the black liquid from her lungs. There was no blood on her lips, and she'd managed to stay conscious even though she coughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. 

Emma changed behind Regina, apparently ignorant of how beautiful she was. She stripped down and put on her new clothing as if Regina couldn't see her perfect skin, and the curves of her stomach. She knew better. She knew this wasn't them, that they weren't together, no matter what the dragon part of Emma had done, yet Regina wanted her so badly that her blood sang. 

"You can take some of it from her," Mal whispered, still struggling for enough breath to speak. "You can share it." 

"Share it?" Regina repeated. Maleficent knew what she was suggesting. Regina had seen that smile before. Had she watched Regina's face while Emma changed? Was Regina that transparent in her affection? Had Maleficent seen the bite? Could she sense it somehow? 

She didn't seem angry or jealous, and Regina was so accustomed to not being trusted, being jealously guarded by her former husband, that she looked between both women, absolutely confused. 

"Don't you think feeling your inner dragon is the kind of experience that you should share?" Mal asked, smirking even as she struggled to hold up her head. 

Emma agreed with her. Her hand stroked the small of Regina's back, teasing her through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Her fingers worked upwards, stroking along Regina's spine, then finding her bare back. Trembling where she stood, Regina turned away from Mal in the bed, because her weak smile was too knowing. 

Emma waited for her and her hand ran up Regina's neck, easing her closer. Emma's green eyes threatened to drown her, and Regina let them. She let herself go, surrendering to Emma the way she'd never given herself to anyone. She'd been taken most of this life, controlled by her mother, then her husband, then Rumplestiltskin. She'd been handed from one person to another like a trophy. She'd repeated that, hurting Graham the way she'd been hurt. Controlling him as she had been. She hadn't known this need, this kind of desire, and it frightened her even as Emma drew her in. 

Emma didn't want to control her, even as a beast of legend, Emma wanted her. Emma's hand brushed against Regina's cheek, pulling her closer, further in. Her lips parted and her head tilted to the side, welcoming Regina in. They shared a breath, and the heat of Emma drew her in. Her lips parted, her heart fluttered in her throat, and fire crackled against her lips, then in her mouth. Emma let her close the gap, waiting for Regina, and the connection of their flesh came almost as an afterthought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contain references to magical drug use (sort of) and not entirely sober-sex having. Dragon fire's weird stuff. It also turned out sexier than I planned, so I've raised the rating, just in case. 
> 
> Huge thanks again to Race. :)

Maleficent rolled her eyes and then looked directly at Emma. Her voice dropped a register, picking up just enough strength to catch Emma’s attention. “Don’t you think feeling your inner dragon is the kind of experience you should share?” and yes, dammit, Maleficent was smirking. A part of Regina wanted to slap the expression off of the other woman’s face. The rest of her wanted to thank her.

Emma must have agreed because she was suddenly closer, her hand stroking the small of Regina’s back in gentle circles, heat seeping through the sheer fabric of her nightgown. Regina had to bite back the sigh that floated up from her chest as Emma’s fingers slid upward, following the line of Regina’s spine until she found the naked skin of her back. Trembling where she stood, Regina turned away from Mal’s too knowing gaze.

The motion was a mistake, because now she was facing Emma. Emma who waited for her, caressing Regina’s neck, easing her closer. Emma’s eyes were so green, like new grass or a deep pool in the forest and Regina thought she might drown in them. And yet she wasn’t afraid. The way Emma looked at her now was familiar. It was how they’d always looked at one another, since the very first moment on a quiet summer’s evening, when Henry’s words ‘I found my real mom!’ still ringing in Regina’s ears. They’ve always stared too long and pushed too hard, always orbited too close as if there was some gravitational pull in which they were both caught. And always Regina had resisted. Out of fear, and anger and later, out of despair because she’d thought Emma could never be hers and Regina was learning to be content; with friendship, with family. It had been enough.

Emma’s fingers stroked the soft hair at the nape of her neck and Regina could feel the heat radiating off her body.

It wasn’t enough anymore.

Regina has been taken most of her life. Controlled by her mother, then the King. She’d been moulded by Rumplestiltskin, handed from one person to another like a trophy or a tool until it was all she understood and all she could do was repeat the cycle, hurting Graham the way she’d been hurt, lashing out at others to make them feel her pain until the soft, gentle memories of Daniel were buried beneath her anger.

Henry had helped her break from that path, showing her it was possible, giving her a reason to keep going when she stumbled and fell. She had learned to love, but she had never known this kind of need, this desire that pulsed in her blood, tightening her body even as she wanted more.

It should have terrified her, the strength of her wanting, but it didn’t. It didn’t because of Emma. Emma didn’t want to control her or use her. She wasn’t a pawn to Emma’s game or a tool that could be used. She wasn’t a trophy to be shown off. Emma wanted her. And the desire that echoed Regina’s own was written on Emma's familiar features in front of Regina as clearly as if it had been tattooed there. Emma’s hand brushed against Regina’s cheek, guiding her gently closer as her lips parted. Her thumb stroked back and forth over Regina’s cheek, but she made no other move.

Still and expectant, Regina realised that Emma was waiting for her.

“Emma?”

“Hey,” and there it was, there she was. The rumble of the dragon might have given the word weight, but the word, the look, the touch. It was all Emma.

Regina let herself go, closed the last distance between them until their lips were just brushing. It wasn’t a kiss, it wasn’t meant to be a kiss, not yet, but Emma’s hands tightened and Regina’s rose to clutch at Emma’s hips as her lips parted, yes falling closed as she breathed in, in in. Fire crackled against her lips, slipping into her mouth, heat that should have seared and destroyed instead becoming part of her, of her, heady and bright and oh, so much power. Regina’s fingers tightened and someone – Maleficent? – growled approval as Regina took the fire from Emma. When they finally kissed, the connection of their flesh was almost an afterthought.

Fire raged in her lungs and distantly, as if it were happening to someone else, Regina wondered if she should be afraid of what it might do to her, if it would burn her as it had before. She could still recall the agony as her flesh seared, remember Mal’s sharp voice and gentle hands…but those memories faded away even now as she breathed deeper, her mouth brushing Emma’s; their hands gripping tight enough to leave marks. And Regina knew: the fire wouldn’t burn her now because she was made of it, because it came from Emma and nothing that was from Emma would hurt her, not anymore. And with that surety came so much more than heat. The dragon was more than fire, it was invincibility, it was power as old as the earth beneath them. Regina clung to Emma and breathed all of it in.

Emma’s skin was no longer warmer than her own and as their bodies pressed together Regina could no longer tell where she ended and Emma began.

Then tender fingers caressed the bite mark on her neck sending a pulse of recognition thrumming through Regina’s body, making her gasp against Emma’s mouth. It left aching desire in its wake, her pulse pounding thickly between her legs, and a hunger of a different kind swelling in her chest. “Mine,” Regina whispered, tugging Emma impossibly closer. She understood better now, the sense of possession, the desire to take. She’d been so afraid that she wasn’t wanted, that she would shatter whatever was growing between her and Emma. Now she knew better, she could feel the racing beat of Emma’s heart against her own ribs, taste Emma’s hunger on her own tongue. There was no reason to wait any longer, no reason to hold back, not when they could be together like this.

Emma kissed her, deep, slow and steady then Regina slid her arms around Emma’s waist just to hold on, to keep herself up when Emma eased away then nuzzled the corner of her mouth, pressing a soft kiss there, then another and another. The aftereffects of the contact crackled through Regina like an electric current, stoking her desire. How had Emma held back? Why weren’t their clothes already lying in shreds on the floor? Regina couldn’t remember.

“Get out you two.” The voice, weary, but still full of exasperation, cut through the white hot nothing inside Regina’s head. Blinking, she pulled back, and was met by Emma’s equally glazed green eyes. Regina might have grinned somewhat stupidly; Emma certainly did. Behind them, Maleficent made a disgusted noise. “Honestly, its about time. You’re of no use to anyone like this, get out.”

Before Regina could formulate a reply she heard a noise downstairs and…outside? Yes, still outside. Cruella and Ursula had returned. Regina could smell them as they entered her house: fur and expensive perfume and a whiff of gin, brine and leather and the cold breeze. There was someone else with them who smelled of forest and red pepper and…wolf. Granny, Regina identified. Granny had experience with witches and shapeshifters and wouldn’t let Mal misbehave. Between the three of them they would be able to care for Maleficent for a while. There was no reason to stay here at the moment.

Regina looked at Emma, and saw the same thought in those green eyes.

She needed Emma, needed to experience Emma, know her completely and be known in return. A part of Regina knew that if Maleficent hadn’t tossed them out, there was a very real possibility they’d have taken each other right there, even with an audience.

Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, she slipped her hand into Emma’s and squeezed gently, ‘yes,’ she thought as Emma looked at her. ‘Yes’ Emma squeezed back and turned, guiding Regina away down the hall toward her own bedroom. She could hear Granny, Ursula and Cruella on the stairs now and some last remaining tension between Regina’s shoulders eased. They would help Maleficent, perhaps better than she and Emma could at this point. Henry was at school and would remain there for several hours.

No one else needed her.

No one but Emma.

* * *

Regina didn’t remember the steps between Maleficent’s room and her own, time sliding sideways and snapping back into place with the feeling of Emma’s arms around her, anchoring her. She was weak and strong all at once, her knees trembling even as the magic rolled through both her and Emma, crackling and calling to her, urging her forward until she had Emma backed against the far wall, her lips on Emma’s skin and Emma’s pulse racing, calling to her own.

The fire inside her had stripped away the last of her fear, letting Regina feel without trying to hold back and what she felt was wonderful.

She looked at Emma and her whole body sang, the mark on her neck throbbing in time with her heartbeat as desire pulsed thick and heavy between her legs. And Emma…bright, beautiful, kind Emma was looking at her like she was all that mattered in the world. Her smile held such joy, promised such affection that Regina knew even if it weren’t for the dragon fire in their blood, she would have given in. There was no fear in Emma’s gaze, only pure, blinding want, and Regina gave herself up to it: to gentle hands and a hungry mouth and safety. They were both falling but Emma would catch her, she knew. She felt Emma, all around her, holding her up; Regina opened her mouth and breathed deeper. 

The fire raced through her, burning away the traitorous voice that said Emma would leave her, the voice that whispered to her in the dark of night that everyone she loved left her; that she was unlovable, unworthy; that she hurt what she touched. Regina breathed Emma in and that voice was thrown into the fire, consumed, made ash and smoke and breathed out again. The heat of Emma’s lips against her own teased the inferno inside her and fed it, urging it higher. They traded it, back and forth, in and out, letting it grow with each breath, each fevered press of their lips, each racing beat of their hearts and it swept over them like a great wave until they could no longer be still.

Once there had been Maleficent’s scales against her bare skin, now there was only the soft heat of Emma’s hand as she reached out, caressing a single finger along the neckline of Regina’s gown before twitching her wrist. Emma didn’t have claws or scales, but the fabric parted anyway, slashed and burned, the edges blackened and the scent of ash in the air as it fell away, exposing Regina's skin. Then Emma’s hands were on her, reverent and tender and hungry. They moved without design or intent other than to touch and a groan escaped Regina's lips, almost inaudible above the pounding of her pulse in her ears. How long? How long since someone had desired her like this? Daniel – dear sweet, gentle Daniel a part of her would always love – would never have touched her like this, his slim mortal frame incapable of holding such fire. Maleficent, of course, had been closer, but Regina had been the one to hold back then, when she was the one who feared being burned.

She wasn’t afraid of Emma. She knew Emma. Her nemesis, her foil, her opposite, her partner, her friend, her confidante, her protector...

Her mate. 

This time the low growl rumbled through Regina’s chest, making the air between them shiver. Dragging her fingers down and across Emma’s chest, Regina watched the fabric part at her touch, blackening as if her fingers were tipped in fire. Where her fingertips touched Emma, though, there were no burns. Fabric was weak. They were not; they were impervious to fire. They were made of fire and Emma stood unflinching, smiling, waiting beneath Regina’s hands. 

Waiting for Regina to claim her. 

"Mine."

Maybe Emma said it, or maybe Regina did, it hardly mattered. They owned each other together, and the fresh bite on Regina's neck throbbed, coaxing her forward to press her lips to the tender skin of Emma’s throat. She wanted...she wanted… 

"Mark me," Emma whispered, her voice half a purr in her throat as her hands smoothed along Regina’s spine, restless and needy. "Make me yours." Her head tipped back against the wall, baring her neck to Regina’s gaze and Regina knew, somehow, just how to bite her to seal the bond, knew what the power would feel like in her bones when the circle was complete, knew what Emma’s blood would taste like on her tongue. Her teeth were knives in her mouth, yet still hers, her hands claw-tipped but soft, her skin scaled and clean. They were both and everything at once and when she broke Emma's skin, the ritual would be completed. They'd be sealed in the unbreakable bond of mates, forever entwined. 

Emma would be hers. 

Like a cold breeze slipping through the crack in a doorway, that thought brought doubt. A part of Regina - that still spoke in Cora’s voice and echoed with punishments long survived - whispered that this was wrong, she didn't deserve Emma, didn't deserve this, would never be worthy, that it would only end in tragedy like all her other loves, because love was a weakness…

Just as she readied herself to pull away, Emma’s fingertips brushed the bite on her neck, sending a wave of need rushing through her blood. “Emma,” she sighed, eyes closing as she leaned closer, wanting so deeply, but torn.

“Make the mark, Regina. Please.” It was the first time Emma had said her name since all this started and it made Regina look up, into green eyes that were clear and totally fearless. Emma dipped her head, brushing her lips across Regina’s in the softest, lightest kiss, just barely enough for the fire to trickle between them, but enough, finally enough, for the deep voice within her to drown out Cora’s words, for Regina to find strength in her soul that reached for Emma, part of her knew that love wasn't about deserving, but giving. This wasn’t about the past, but the present and the future. It was about having, and belonging, taking and giving in equal measure. 

Emma offered herself, and all of Regina was Emma's, so she gave without hesitation. 

Doubt faded and heat suffused her limbs, making her forget she had ever been afraid. Regina brushed her lips over Emma's neck, feeling the racing pulse just beneath the skin. It called to the dragon inside her, promising possession and power like music just beyond the range of human hearing. She pressed soft kisses to the corner of Emma’s jaw and smiled when she drew a whimper from Emma’s lips. Emma trembled beneath her hands, quivering in delight and anticipation, the silky curtain of her hair falling off her other shoulder. 

Regina tangled her fingers in it and tugged, ‘mine’ thrumming through her mind as she stared at the taut line of Emma’s throat. 

"Make the mark," Emma begged. Her hand smoothed along the line of Regina’s thigh, over the curve of her hip, promising more, and Regina ached with it. 

She held off for one more moment though, one more span of heartbeats to lift Emma's chin and meet her eyes, making sure. 

Foolish, perhaps, because the answer was right there. This was Emma, Emma with all her fears burned away, and she wanted Regina. 

And Regina wanted her. 

Her teeth pressed against human skin, pressed and bit. Blood sang, sweet copper in her mouth and a wave of power burst outward, like the rush of a curse breaking, but made of fire, not rainbows. Emma gasped and Regina moaned, both of them clinging to each other as the connection was sealed, the mark made in an instant that would last forever. 

It was done. 

The rest blurred, for the dragon, once full of the promise of Emma; all the power and affection of her, knew exactly what she wanted. She took and gave, revelling in the force ignited between them. Magic, fire, even life hummed between them, and she knew, only like a dream, that they hovered over the bed, crashed against the wall, pressed each other to the ceiling, because gravity meant nothing. There was only slick skin and welcoming heat, only lips and tongues and hands and pleasure that rolled in and out like a tide, lapping at their consciousness like waves but never truly receding. 

Emma was all that mattered, and she was just as consumed with Regina. Fire called to them, and together they burned.

* * *

The first coherent thought that managed to make its way through the dark fog of Emma’s mind was that maybe once, in an expensive hotel on assignment, she’d had sheets this nice. Her own sheets certainly weren't this nice and the spare sheets for her parents' couch definitely weren't this soft against her skin. 

Against her skin that was exposed, because she was very, very naked, in a bed that wasn’t hers. The roof of her mouth was tender against her tongue, as if she'd been eating pizza before it cooled properly and her lips stung, as if chapped. The scent of smoke hung heavy in the air, as if she'd fallen asleep next to a bonfire and Emma’s skin promised a hundred little pains like bruises. She could feel the familiar pull of scratches along her back, her arms and her hips. 

She was also not alone. With her eyes closed, Emma tried to force her brain to make sense of the jumbled signals her body was sending her. Where ever she was, she lay naked, scratched and with a living body wrapped around her own. 

Memory was jumbled in with sensation, crowding Emma’s mind. Sun on her face and the knowledge it was probably mid day, maybe lunch time, competed for attention with the memory of lips on her skin. The soft weight of an unfamiliar body was overlayed with memory of the rising crest of her orgasm, someone’s fingers inside her even as the sharp pain of teeth at her shoulder drove her over the edge. Her body tightened at that memory, an echo of something more than pleasure, something made of magic and power finally catapulting her into waking fully. 

Emma looked down to see tousled dark hair and a familiar face. Regina. It was Regina who lay draped across her, holding her close. Recognition, realisation, brought a swift surge of protectiveness and Emma’s arms tightened instinctively around the slim, precious body against her own. ‘Mine,’ she heard like a far off whisper, but the voice was her own, filling her chest with warmth and light and joy. 

Everything else from that morning came rushing back, sense memory hitting Emma so hard she only barely bit back a groan. She’d lost count of the ways they’d taken each other. It all blurred together, Regina’s mouth on her breasts, the taste of Regina’s desire in Emma’s mouth, the way Regina cradled her close as she quivered in the aftermath of her orgasm, Regina’s fingers, demanding inside her, Regina crying her name from somewhere above her… 

The magic they’d shared had driven them far past most human tolerances and it didn’t seem to be fully gone from her system because even now Emma didn’t feel exhausted. If anything she felt rejuvenated, reborn, and a part of her wanted to kiss Regina awake and start all over again. The scratches on her skin were fading, she could feel it and she wanted to see the light fill Regina’s eyes.

Still, she held back. They might have both wanted this, but these last days had been agonising for Regina and Emma wanted her to sleep while she could. She was unable to resist lifting her head though, smelling sweat and the remnants of fire in Regina's hair. She kissed that dark hair, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of intimacy that accompanied the simple gesture. Regina, beautiful, mended, confusing, powerful, gorgeous Regina, lay naked on top of her. Emma didn’t ever want to get out of this bed. 

She remembered what it had felt like to want so deeply, to be utterly sure of her right to have and though the dragon now slumbered, Emma couldn’t stop her hand from reaching up, stroking softly through the silky hair spilled across her chest. She probably should have felt more guilty when it caused Regina to stir, moaning softly. 

“Hey,” she whispered, waiting for Regina’s eyes to blink open. Emma was right. They were stunning in the bright light of day, lit like stained glass, not brown but the deepest amber and maybe it was just her overactive imagination, but she thought she could still see the briefest flicker of fire in them before Regina blinked and it was gone. Regina lifted her head lazily from Emma's chest and smiled, slow and careful, shy and satisfied at the same time. It was like watching the sun come out after a storm, such a beautiful expression, Emma knew she was smiling too, probably like an idiot, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this content. 

Instead of answering, Regina shifted, pressing closer and tracing her tongue along the mark on Emma’s neck. Even now the sensation made her gasp, liquid heat pooling between her legs. Her memory of begging for that mark, wanting to be Regina's as much as Regina was hers was still jumbled, like looking in a cracked mirror. The image was all there, but little pieces of other memories disrupted it; Emma could recall Cruella calling for her, a spike of fear that something had happened to Regina, the sight of Maleficent, ice cold and too-still, Regina’s eyes dark with fear and longing then it all washed away with the warmth of Regina against her, fire and want and arousal blurring the rest of the morning they'd spent together. Emma’s teeth still tingled, and a sense of well-being lived so deep within her that Emma wondered if the dragon fire had left something behind. Or perhaps it was just the wonder of Regina, because Emma still tasted her on her lips. The welcome soreness between her legs was definitely from her. When she kissed Regina's hand, she knew that scent. 

The sheets wrapped around them had been torn from the bed, and the mattress lay crooked in the sagging frame. Plaster and paint chips lay in the carpet. The pyjamas Emma had been wearing were ash, and Regina's nightgown had survived no better. Even the carpet beneath them had burn marks. As Emma watched, the delicate red marks on Regina's skin faded away. Regina lifted her arm, staring in wonder as her skin healed. 

"Hey," Emma said, reaching for Regina's cheek.

Regina leaned into her fingers, smiling. The way her eyes lit when Emma made contact, sent a rush of warmth down to Emma's toes. Her smile began to fade, and Emma leaned in to kiss her before it could.

This chaste meeting of their lips was the first sober meeting of their mouths, and it held just as much intoxicating promise as the hungry kisses that returned to Emma's scrambled memories as her mind cleared.

"Dragon fire's worse than tequila," Regina muttered. She sat up, reached for the sheet and stopped, unashamed. Maybe Emma had already starred too much at her breasts.

"Yeah," Emma agreed, studying the damage to Regina's bed room. "Looks like it."

"Yet this is better" Regina added, shyly searching for Emma's eyes. She ran her fingers over the fresh scar on her neck and then reached for Emma's, finding the matching mark. "No hangover."

"Well," Emma began and stopped, then swallowed. She couldn't stop looking at Regina, wanting to touch her. "Kind of."

Regina's fingers ran through Emma's hair, she smiled at her then looked down and blushed. "Then I think this is the best hangover I've ever had." 

Emma caught her hand, stroking Regina's fingers as if she needed to learn how the bones fit into her skin. The hint of brimstone still clung to her skin, as if she'd stood in a fire not a moment before. She kissed her fingers, then her wrist, then Regina's shoulder. Regina shivered at the touch, then leaned back, pulling Emma down to the abused mattress with her. Emma lay across her chest, trying not to be completely distracted by Regina's perfect breasts and how close they were to her mouth.

"We should get up," Regina said. She ran her fingertips down Emma's neck, then leaned up with great caution, as if kissing Emma now would burn the way it hadn't before. It didn't. Kissing now was sweeter than it had been when they'd both been consumed so utterly by dragon fire. Now there was no doubt that this was real, that whatever they were building between them was so rich that it had outlasted the fire. 

Emma snuck one more kiss before she got to her feet, and another as she threw the sheet back on the bed and smirked at Regina's naked body. 

"What?"

"You're beautiful," Emma said. 

Regina shook her head once and headed for her closet, her dark hair falling wild on her shoulders. "Thank you," she said finally, but it was an automatic response. She started pulling on new panties, easing them over her legs and sliding them up over her hips. Emma stared at her perfect ass until she realised how terrible that was, then, blushing, she dropped her gaze.

"You don't like it."

"Being beautiful's never been anything but trouble for me," Regina said. Slipping on her silky, lacy bra, she stopped and corrected herself. "Occasionally it was useful, but it certainly caused more harm than good."

Emma shook her head, lowering her chin to Regina's shoulder as she stared at her drawer of smooth, silky underwear. Emma was lucky when her panties didn't have holes in them and that her bras hadn't faded. "I'm sorry."

"I used to wish it away," Regina said. She reached up and caught Emma's hand on her arm. She held it to her, leaning back into Emma's warm body. "If I'd been ugly, Leopold would never have been interested in me, and I could have run away with Daniel." 

Emma's hand inadvertently brushed the mating scar on Regina's neck and both of them shared the sudden rush of heat that bloomed beneath their skin. "Sorry."

Regina raised her eyebrows and turned in Emma's arms, smiling shyly. "I don't think I mind it when you say it."

"Oh?" Emma leaned inwards, burying her lips on Regina's neck as she worked her way around to her mouth. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You know that, right?"

"You are aware that we come from a land where at least four other women have been described as the fairest in all the land, including your mother." Regina kissed her back, even though the words were half-lost in the meeting of their lips. 

"Not by me," Emma teased, smiling. "And my opinion matters a lot, you know." 

Regina leant against her, taking a breath as if the scent of Emma could armour her for the world outside her trashed bedroom. "You need clothes."

Emma shrugged, she'd all but forgotten that she was naked. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Regina headed for her closet and took out a pair of jeans, and as she pulled them on, Emma was so distracted watching that she forgot that she'd have to obtain her clothes somehow. "Can you fetch them with magic?" Regina asked, searching for a simple t-shirt. 

Emma could have easily spent the rest of the day watching Regina get dressed, then undressed again. She shook herself out of it. "How would I do that?"

Regina sat on the bed, which creaked in protest, as she pulled on her socks. "It's like reaching into your closet in your mind. See what you want, and reach for it with your thoughts instead of your hands." 

Emma shut her eyes and tried to think of everything she'd need. When she opened them, she had three socks that didn't match, a grey bra all twisted into a knot, jeans, panties, a tank top, and a shirt, which was what really mattered. She tugged them on in a hurry, trying not to be distracted as Regina used magic to clean up her bedroom. The marks in the carpet disappeared and the sheets returned to the bed, which repaired itself. It seemed to take a good deal of concentration by the way Regina's brow furrowed, but it was way better than cleaning by hand. 

Emma waited by the door, watching Regina finish by poofing what was left of their destroyed clothing out of existence. Emma reached out her hand, smiling. "Ready?" 

Starring at her offered palm, Regina struggled with her mouth, as if caught between a smile and some other emotion. She took Emma's hand and squeezed it, then looked up at her. "Yes." 

The smooth face of the mayor descended then, covering up Regina with a veil of competency. Not that Regina lacked the ability to handle anything that came her way, but she chose to protect herself and Emma recognised the safety in hiding. She kind of wished she could do it. Following Regina into the hallway, Emma caught another glance at the mark on Regina's neck and remembered how it felt to make the scar. She'd never been so entirely in control of herself, yet surrendered so much to the other person. She still didn't understand it. She remembered bits and pieces that were shockingly vivid, and emotions, and her body certainly remembered Regina's touch, but she didn't know what it was, what it meant, where they were headed: it didn't matter. They'd be together, Emma had no doubt of that.

* * *

Regina's guest room was still full of activity as they entered. Cruella held Maleficent's hands, holding her up against the headboard because she had no strength, Granny held a mixing bowl from the kitchen up in front of her and as they watched, Ursula drew water out of Maleficent's lungs with some kind of spell. 

Dark, brackish and bloodied water broke in a bubble from Maleficent's pale lips. It hovered before her before falling neatly into the bowl. They stopped, because Maleficent's eyes threatened to roll back into her head and her back contorted in pain. Cruella slapped her face and Maleficent somehow clung to consciousness. That had been gentle, Emma realised by the sound but she didn't know Cruella had ever employed restraint. 

Granny patted Ursula's shoulder and set the bowl on the floor, eyeing her patient, who breathed a little easier than she had before. "I think that's all she can take for now."

Ursula nodded, and slipped from the bed. She moved too smoothly, almost as if the bones in her legs weren't as solid as they appeared. She lifted the bowl and headed out of the room. Her grin at Regina and Emma was knowing, but without judgement. "Seems like someone got a few lungfuls of the dark curse when she went through the line. I'll get rid of it, don't worry."

Emma stared at the white mixing bowl and the dark water swirling within. For a moment it simply looked like water and charcoal, tinged with blood, yet something green and dark spun wild within and the more she watched, the deeper it threatened to draw her in. Regina drew her attention back and they took a few steps closer to the bed. 

"Maleficent's ribs are a little beat up from coughing, if you two can heal them you'll take away much of her pain," Granny said, looking at Emma and Regina, almost expectantly. 

Emma glanced at Regina, who slipped into the space by the bed Cruella had just vacated. Maleficent lay on the pillows, very still, but less pale than she'd been before. 

"The Dark Curse?" Emma asked, in case anyone was listening who could answer the question. 

"Some of its power remains in your town line, protecting you from the world," Cruella explained, standing back with her arms crossed. "When this town was cursed, it was simply a way to keep you all in, but now that the curse has been lifted, what remains of that dark power protects you from the outside and keeps magic within the town's borders. Mal should have realised that before she tried to walk through it."

"You had no idea either," Maleficent whispered, her voice sharp like broken glass. "Don't get all high and mighty with me. The same thing might happen to you if you tried to cross."

"But I won't, darling, that's the difference," Cruella said, shaking her head. "You're lucky the saviour here could handle the dragon fire."

Emma and Regina shared a long look, and even though she still looked half-dead, Maleficent managed to smile. 

"Doesn't seem like she could handle it on her own," Maleficent added. She started coughing again, and Granny was right, there was more agony evident in her face now than there had been before. Her desperate gasping when she caught her breath was painful even to hear. 

"What do we do?" Emma asked, placing her hand on Regina's arm. "We can fix this, right?" 

Regina sat down on the bed when Granny moved back to give her space. "Did you let the tentacled siren break your ribs while we were gone?"

Maleficent shook her head, and it was only by the smallest of motions that her head moved at all. "I did that on my own," she insisted, even though pain made her words end in a hiss. 

Regina reached up for Emma's hand, and held it tight. She began to tug Emma's energy, directing her subtly, as if channelling Emma's power through herself. Magic hummed through Emma, as if she and Regina together formed a chord. Regina lay her hand on Maleficent's chest, and the chord changed, growing richer. Emma's head swam for a moment, and she heard the terrible creaking of bones slipping back together. The knitting was over in a moment, buried in the hum of magic coursing between Emma and Regina. 

"I didn't know we could do that," Emma said, watching Regina stroke Maleficent's cheek and wipe away her slow tears. "We can heal bones?"

"You might find your magic functions better together now," Maleficent replied, finally without pain in her voice. "It's a side effect."

Emma assumed she meant the dragon fire and started to ask if she'd have any other side effects, then she stopped. Maleficent could see Regina's neck and the mark there. She's watched them both so drunk with each other that they'd nearly made love with her in the room. Sharing magic was a side effect of the mating bond, not the dragon fire. Right. Maleficent knew that, and she'd read Emma's face even as she'd sat through what had to be the deeply uncomfortable process of having her ribs mended. Emma wondered if she should be more careful in front of Maleficent but realised that there was probably little she could do. She remembered what dragon-fire enhanced senses had been like, and if Maleficent saw the world like that all the time, well, it was a good thing that she seemed to be on Regina's side. 

"You'll be fine," Regina promised, fussing with the blankets even though as far as Emma could tell, they were okay. 

"You just feel guilty because that was your curse Ursula had to pull out of my lungs," Maleficent teased. Emma watched Regina's smile twist, but grow instead of fading. 

"Perhaps," Regina said. "You should rest."

Maleficent rolled her eyes. "After all that trouble you went to, keeping me awake?"

Listening to them argue, Emma hovered behind Regina, unsure where her place was. She knew Maleficent was no threat to her nascent relationship with Regina, and Regina loved the dragon-lady, as Emma loved Neal. Of course she would, they had a child together, and even if that baby wasn't here, that was still a connection that would never fade between them. Emma rested a hand on Regina's shoulder, then leaned down to kiss her cheek. Her power had been used for what was needed, and Maleficent and Regina needed space to talk. She could keep an eye on Cruella and Ursula in the kitchen, or start doing something about the front door and the mess that extended all across Regina's stoop. 

Regina caught her as Emma took a step back and they stopped, kissing in front of Maleficent, again. Maleficent's sigh as she watched was heavy, resigned, but happy. Emma was almost certain that the weary smile Maleficent had as she left was for her, then she left them alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks again to Race :)

She'd almost made it out of the door, clothing in a bag over her shoulder, only to be foiled by the need to go back for her toothbrush. That detour meant she had to interact with her parents, who returned with the little guy while she stuffed her toothbrush into her bag. Cursing her luck, Emma sighed, straightened up and prepared to face them. They didn't need the whole story, not right now, but she'd have to explain that she was staying at Regina's.

Staying at Regina’s.

Emma had been a nomad her whole life, bouncing around the system, being shuttled and passed off from family to group home to family and back until finally she let go of any hope of belonging. ‘Home’ became wherever she happened to be, more often than not the backseat of her stolen Bug or a crummy hotel. She had lived her life with one hand reaching for the door for so long it stilled her now to realize she wasn’t thinking like this. She wasn’t taking all her things yet but the ever-present ‘when it ends...’ wasn’t ready and waiting in her mind. For the first time in years, Emma had no exit strategy.

There was a joke about U-Hauls, women and second dates in there somewhere, and probably a thousand warnings about moving too fast and making mistakes... but Emma’s hands were sure and steady as they zipped up her bag. They hadn't talked about what had happened between them, or where they were going, but she knew she wouldn't be coming back to the overcrowded loft she’d shared with her parents and baby brother. She wasn't leaving Regina, not willingly. She belonged in her house, with her and Henry, with her son and his mother. That was...it was home now.

It should have been impossible, it probably should have scared her, but it didn’t. It didn’t even feel like she was doing something new. It felt instead as if Emma were merely correcting a mistake made long ago, one that had been lived with for so long it was ignored - like a tiny pebble in her shoe - until someone pointed it out. She and Regina belonged together because of Henry. Because of who they were to each other. Maybe even because of fate...although that was a question Emma still wasn’t ready to deal with and her mind shied away from thoughts of ‘destiny.’ She still had some limits after all.

"Emma? Is that you? Where have you been?" her mother's voice called across the tiny loft, cutting through her thoughts and shaking her out of her daze.

"You left the station so quickly when Cruella arrived," her dad added. He held the little guy, bouncing him in his arms. He seemed happy, for the moment, in his sling on her dad's chest. "Everything okay?"

"Maleficent's been hurt," Emma replied, shifting her bag uneasily on her shoulder. She had been dreading this conversation. Her parents and Regina might have been civil to each other these days, but that relationship was and always would be a powder keg of history. More than that, Emma wasn’t convinced her parents truly saw her as an adult capable of making her own choices and they had a tendency to try and make decisions on her behalf at the worst possible times.

She couldn’t let that happen now.

Before...before she might have let them, might have accepted it as a sign, proof that her parents loved her and wanted her and wasn’t that what she had searched for her whole life? But now, with the clarity she felt in the wake of the spell and her time with Regina she knew it couldn’t remain this way. No matter what their intentions Emma couldn’t just stop being the woman she’d been when she drove into Storybrooke, and that woman made her own choices, her own destiny.

Her parents’ accepting she wasn’t just their little girl anymore, however, was a conversation or six for another day. For now she concentrated on updating them on Maleficent. "She was badly hurt. She tried to cross the town line and being without magic really did a number on her. She stopped breathing and went through hypothermia and Regina and I had to use a dragon fire spell to bring her back, and she's back, but she's still really weak, so I'm going to go over and help so Regina doesn't have to look after Maleficent all by herself. I'll be back, soon, and I can tell you all about it, I just really need to go. Henry's going to Ruby's for a couple nights, and he's been doing his homework in the library lately, so he should be fine." It came out in sort of a rush but Emma hoped her parents would think it was just stress of the situation. Which, in a way, it was.

See? Not even a lie.

Not waiting for a response, Emma stepped close, half hugging her mom before she headed for the door. "I'll call you guys tomorrow, when I can, okay?"

"Emma-" Her mom began, catching her arm. "Are you sure it's not some kind of trick? Maleficent's incredibly powerful--"

Emma resisted the urge to sigh. Persistence was a family trait that popped up at the most inconvenient times.

"I felt her pulse stop,” she said, giving her parents a hard look and struggling to keep her voice even. Emma could still remember with vivid clarity the possessiveness she’d felt over Maleficent, the way her skin had felt against Emma’s, too cold but still so soft. She could remember the weight of Maleficent’s body against hers and the dry, almost smoky scent that lingered in Emma’s nostrils, stirring something deep in Emma’s chest that had been fanned by the dragon fire spell. Even now, with the magic faded, she itched to be back in the mansion, to see for herself that Maleficent was still alive and breathing and healing. It was more than just the natural urge of someone giving a damn about another person. She was tied to Maleficent now, even if only by a single tiny, almost invisible thread, Emma knew she could never sever that bond, and she didn’t want to.

Her parents, however, didn’t need to know any of this, especially while she was still trying to make sense of it all. For her parents, the facts would have to be enough. “Trying to leave town drained her magic enough that she almost died without it," Emma insisted. She looked from her mother to her father and he seemed to get it more than she did. "I know she was a villain, and I haven't read all that she did, but she hasn't even tried to get revenge on me, and I killed her. She's sick now, weak enough that she can't even hold her head up on her own. She's really not someone you need to worry about. Trust me. She needs my help right now. So does Regina."

Snow hesitated, her eyes searching Emma’s face. Her expression had that particular stubborn look, the one Emma knew was usually prelude to a very strong objection and she braced herself to end the conversation and leave but for a wonder, Snow’s jaw worked and she kept her mouth shut. Instead her mother nodded, slowly. Her reluctance made her position clear, however. She didn't trust Maleficent, and there was probably some long story that Emma would have to hear later about her, whether she wanted to or not. Maybe she really should ask Henry to summarise the book for her, or perhaps she should just ask Regina. There might be clues about her parents’ relationship with Maleficent that might help her figure out what they were worried about. If it was just standard fear of someone who could turn into a dragon, well...maybe they never needed to hear the full details of how much she now understood a lot more about dragons. If it was something else...Emma didn’t even want to consider that right now. Even though that cynical voice in the back of her head said nothing was ever simple or easy in this town.

At the moment, though, Emma was just grateful she wasn’t going to have to argue her way past her parents to get back to where she was needed. To where she needed to be.

"I'll be back in a couple days, okay? We can have lunch or something when Maleficent's doing better," she offered. Her parents didn’t argue or try to stop her. Instead they looked at each other, sharing that weird look. They'd been doing a lot lately and while before Emma had been able to ignore it, now it set Emma’s instincts screaming.

Something was wrong.

Ever since Ursula and Cruella arrived, her mother and father had been acting strangely, evasive and on edge, and acting out of character for no reason Emma could discern. Her parents wouldn't lie to her, Emma had believed that, and she’d clung to that belief even as a cold sliver of doubt grew in her mind with each time her parents shared that look.

Now, in the aftermath of the spell with her memories of Maleficent and Regina so fresh and the fire so close, that belief was crumbling, charring like paper; the picture of her family as perfect smoked and blackened around the edges, like a photograph tossed onto a fire. What it would reveal underneath, Emma wasn’t sure she was ready to discover. Standing in the loft with her bag on her shoulder and her feet aching to be moving, to be walking toward the mansion, Emma was suddenly torn, the revelation somehow more frustrating than surprising.

Her parents were hiding something from her about Maleficent and Emma suddenly realize she could smell it on them. They smelled not of family, but of ‘other’, of lies and deceit. It wasn’t a physical smell, a part of Emma knew this, recognized it as the remnants of the spell enhancing her own magic and senses, but the result was the same. In a moment of brutal honesty, Emma admitted to herself she had been ignoring the feeling of ‘wrongness’ ever since Maleficent had returned from the dead. Maybe she hadn't really understood it, or she just hadn’t wanted to, but it was there, and no longer possible to ignore. Something was between them that wasn't all right, and she wanted to leave, to get away, not just back to Regina, but away from them. In that moment, Emma wanted Regina. It wasn't just that Regina was her mate now, something was wrong with her parents and Regina had - even when they were fighting - always been the one person Emma could count on to make sense. She desperately needed the feeling of surety now, the way Regina could ground her when it felt like the world was off balance.

If she stayed, she was going to do something they all would regret.

Edging past her parents, she moved toward the door. "I'm fine, really. I just can't leave Regina alone with her. She might need my help if we need to do more magic. We've already had to mend her ribs once, and Granny thinks she might break them again if she doesn't stop coughing, and I don't know about you guys, but broken ribs really hurt, and Regina and I, we're really good at fixing things together--" Emma knew she was babbling, and she didn't care, because she trusted the sound of her own voice in a way she couldn't trust her parents. The knowledge that the people she’d wanted to find for so long were deceiving her had set her world spinning off its axis just enough that the floor felt uneven, her footsteps unsure. They wouldn't lie to her, she’d believed that all the way down to the ends of her toes, but everything about the way they stood, the way they kept looking at each other instead of looking Emma in the eyes: it was all wrong.

"Remember to take care of yourselves too," her dad said. He reached out, pulling her to him and cradling the back of her head, the way he always did, and Emma finally smiled because that was real. Whatever else was going on, her parents still cared, and was left of the dragon inside of her had no doubts that her father loved her. It wasn’t enough. Not even close, but Emma clung to it for a moment, accepting the embrace for just an instant before pulling away, trying to offer a smile in thanks. "It's a lot to take care of someone who's as sick as you say. Make sure you eat, and sleep, and if you need anything-"

"-Call us," her mother finished, "call us right away, all right?"

She was saved from having to say anything further as Little Guy started to fuss, because her dad had stopped swaying back and forth to look at her and Emma used the distraction of him as an excuse to back away. She'd meant to walk, because Regina's wasn't far. She took a step, thinking of being back with Regina, in her house, and she teleported, without even trying to. Emma heard the beginning of both her parents gasping and then sighed as she rematerialised in Regina's kitchen, all the tension sliding off her shoulders at the familiar sight and smell of being where she was needed, where she belonged.

Someday soon she'd have to explain that she'd taken magical advice from the dragon her parents were so worried about, but she was going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with them first. In the meantime, they would just have to accept that she could teleport, and that was really convenient, especially with the Bug still being repaired, because it was a lot harder to get a new windscreen for an old Volkswagen in a magical town in the middle of nowhere.

If only it were really that simple. 

* * *

 

Even though Regina's kitchen smelt of the strange combination of spaghetti and brimstone from the spell, Emma relaxed as soon as the pale smoke that surrounded her faded. She was safe here, and immediately comfortable, because this was home now. She hadn't even let herself contemplate that as a conscious thought, but here she was, standing in Regina's house, more at ease than she'd been with her parents.

"Welcome back, darling," Cruella said from the stove. She peered over Ursula's shoulder, watching what smelt like dinner come together. "Your teleporting has improved."

"Yeah?" Emma asked, wondering if this was going to lead to some terrible backhanded compliment.

"You look much less nervous when you appear," Ursula explained, grabbing some peppers from the fridge with a tentacle while Emma tried not to shudder. Tentacles in the kitchen was going to to take a lot of getting used to. "You're not wondering where your body parts are, that's progress."

"Uh, thanks," Emma said, shifting the weight of her bag and wincing because that was probably true. "Is Regina still upstairs?"

"Won't leave Mal alone for a minute," Cruella said, leaning over the cutting board and stealing a piece of pepper as Ursula chopped it up. "It's probably for the best. The Wolf's gone to check Gold's old shop to see if there's anything of Mal's in there that could help. She'll be back for dinner."

"Kept threatening to make calamari," Ursula said with a shiver of revulsion. “That’s not even funny.”

Cruella chuckled, rubbing her hand along Ursula’s back in a soothing motion. “Calm down, darling. I thought it was a little funny. Dinner's in what, twenty minutes?"

"Thereabouts," Ursula answered. Using her tentacles to cook apparently left her hands free for wine, and she and Cruella were already through most of a bottle of red. Emma wasn't going to ask how being intoxicated was going to help Maleficent heal, but Cruella and Ursula seemed to be the types who could hold their liquor, so Emma left them to it. Whatever they were making smelt pretty good, so perhaps the villains could cook.

As Emma turned to leave the kitchen it briefly crossed her mind that Ursula and Cruella deVil were cooking dinner in the Evil Queen’s kitchen and the only thing that remotely phased her was what might happen if they drank all of Regina’s good wine.

Somedays, her life was a real fucking trip.

It was hers though, bought and paid for with so much pain and uncertainty, and now that there was a chance she could finally hold on to it…

Emma wasn’t letting go.

Trying to be at least a little quiet, she took off her boots and dropped them by the front door, then turned to head upstairs. It happened when her foot lifted automatically to avoid the squeaky stair that was third from the top before the landing. Emma stopped, almost swaying as she realized she could feel Regina. Her magic, her presence...something, Emma wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she could sense the other woman near, as if she was just right next to Emma, only barely out of sight. It was more than just proximity, it was the entire house, the reason she’d felt such relief as soon as she appeared in the kitchen. Regina’s magic infused the very walls of the house, warmth like distant laughter welcoming her like open arms.

A sound from the kitchen, the clatter of silverware perhaps, jerked Emma from her reverie and she sucked in a deep breath, head spinning and vision going grey for a moment. Leaning against the railing she closed her eyes and let the magic inside her off its leash. It was like a key turning in a lock. The last of her earlier turmoil over her parents vanished. At last, Emma Swan was well and truly home.

And Regina was close by.

Quickly, Emma ascended the last of the stairs and dropped her bag outside Regina’s room. She knew she could go in, that she would be welcome, but she refrained. She belonged here, but she and Regina still needed to talk. So much had changed in the last 24 hours and she wasn’t going to enter Regina's sanctum without an invitation. It might have been purely symbolic that she waited but Emma had recently had a very impressive lesson in the importance of symbols. She also understood Regina in a way that went beyond words now. She’d always been able to read the other woman but now Emma had felt her, not just her touch but her heart, her mind, and her magic. For those burning hours they had almost been one person and it was a gift Emma swore, if only to herself, she would do her best not to destroy. Sharing dragon fire and the results might have been an...unorthodox push forward in a relationship they both wanted, but Emma knew the shape of a few scars on Regina’s soul now, and she was going to make sure that this time, Regina got to call the shots.

If that meant waiting for permission to be in her room, then Emma figured that was a small price to pay. 

* * *

 

Besides, Regina wouldn’t be in her room yet, she was still in the guest room, unable to leave Maleficent alone in her weakened state.

As if summoned by her thoughts. Emma felt the faint echoes of the dragon stir in her chest, an urge that was at once her own and a memory making her turn on quick feet to walk down the hall to where her...to where Regina and Maleficent were.

The light was weak inside, because Regina only left on a lamp, not the overhead light. The chair was still pulled close to the bed, but Regina wasn't in it. The big mixing bowl sat next to the bed and it had been cleaned, but Emma could still sense the strength of the dark curse within it, like the metal had been corroded just under the surface. That kind of magic wasn’t something that just washed off, even when it went through the dishwasher.

Maleficent remained propped up on a lot of pillows, her eyes shut, long blonde hair spread messily on the pillowcase around her face. Her breathing was slow and still laboured but as far as Emma could tell she'd hadn't gotten worse, though she had no way to be sure. The echo in Emma’s chest faded farther away, the knot in her stomach loosening at seeing for herself Maleficent was still breathing. Walking closer, she pressed the back of her hand ever so carefully against Maleficent’s forehead, finding her skin cool but much warmer than it had been earlier. Satisfied, Emma turned her attention to the other occupant of the bed.

Regina lay next to Maleficent, fast asleep, curled on her side with her hands under her head. Judging by the forgotten mug of coffee on the nightstand, Regina had tried to stay awake but lost out to her own exhaustion. She looked smaller like this, younger and softer, stripped of the defenses she presented to the world. Emma circled the bed, watching Regina sleep. She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes weren't going to disappear overnight. She'd been upset and on edge for days and given much of herself to bring Maleficent back, and it made something in Emma ache, the way it always did when presented with the evidence of just how much Regina cared for the people in her life.

Unwilling to deprive Regina whatever rest she could get, Emma left her to sleep, merely taking one of the spare blankets from the foot of the bed and tucking it up over the sleeping woman as gently as she could. She wanted to stay, to be close, to wrap herself around Regina and nuzzle the soft skin she knew she would find where the collar of her shirt bunched, but that would wake Regina up and so Emma bit the inside of her lip and turned away. Sitting down in the chair beside the bed, she settled in to keep an eye on both of them, telling herself this was enough. They were safe; she was here. It would be all right. Henry was at school, protected and...her family was here, asleep. In the hushed silence of the house, Emma let that word turn over in her mind.

It came so easily, and looking at Regina sleep it felt right. But family should have meant Snow and Charming….right? It should have meant her parents, her brother. Yet no matter how she thought about it, something felt off and Emma couldn’t stop thinking about her parents lying to her. Was the discordant note just anger at them? At herself for defying her own instincts that had kept her alive, that she’d pushed aside because children were supposed to trust their parents right?

Regina sighed in her sleep, a hand creeping out from the blanket to rest on Mal’s forearm and the rush of tenderness in Emma’s chest was her answer.

This was family. Regina and Henry and even in some weird way, Maleficent. This was home, as strange and ridiculous as it might seem, this place with a dragon, a sorceress and a broken door just waiting for their son to come home from school.

Her parents...Emma knew she loved them, recognized it even as the anger curled inside her, tightening her muscles until she forced herself to breathe it away. She would, in time, forgive them for this too. But not until she had the answers to her questions. Why had they lied? What didn't they want her to know? What had happened that was so horrible that they couldn't tell her? She'd forgiven Regina for all the darkness in her past, why wouldn't her parents trust that she would forgive them?

She didn't know how long she sat there, mind turning in useless circles, but it was long enough that Maleficent’s voice made her jump, yanking her back to the present.

"You should take her to bed," Maleficent said, her voice still raspy and low. "She’ll sleep better there." She managed to finish before another coughing fit took her and Emma was out of the chair in an instant, moving to her side. Thankfully, the bout didn’t last long and Maleficent was already sinking back into the pillows by the time Emma had picked up the glass of water with a straw in it from the bedside table and held it up so Maleficent could take a sip. She hadn't been trusted to take care of anyone since a few of her foster homes had left her in charge of the younger kids, who were often sick because those foster homes hadn't been good, and she caught herself reaching to hold Maleficent's chin while she drank. Touching her skin, feeling the warmth of her, Emma fought the surge of emotions and the stubborn sense of possession she knew didn’t wholly belong to her.

With Regina it had been simple, the magic in the dragon fire just amplifying feelings that already existed, that had been building for years. With Maleficent it was harder to know where the line was between her own need to help someone in pain, and the echo of magic that now tied her to Maleficent, however weakly.

Maleficent shut her eyes again, and to Emma's surprise, leaned in to her touch. It felt...good. Simple. Right. She needed to be protected, and Emma would keep her safe. She could do this, help someone, ease their suffering. It wasn’t about a title or destiny, just simple human touch. Emma let out a breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding, shifting closer to Maleficent as she set the water glass back down.

"She cares about you," Emma said. "You scared her." Without thinking, she reached up to catch a drop of water on Maleficent's chin. The look she got in return was gentle.

"Never meant to," Mal murmured, glancing away. "I forgot what it's like to be weak, and tired. Never felt tired when I was the dragon in that cave, for years, most of your life, I waited, and I slept, but I was never tired." The tip of her tongue ran over her dry lips and she smiled at Emma with the kind of weariness that seemed to have crawled up from the depths of her soul. "Now, tired seems to be all that I am."

Emma’s instincts kept pushing her to touch and Maleficent seemed to take comfort from it, so Emma reached out and brushed back Maleficent's blonde hair from her face, almost surprised that it was so soft. "You're getting better. You just managed to cough without breaking anything," she said wryly, stroking her fingers through the fine hair at Maleficent’s temple. The other woman sighed softly in what sounded like gratitude.

"I see why she likes you, you're like she was," Maleficent said, flicking her eyes towards Regina still asleep at her side.

A part of Emma hesitated, wondered at her place to ask the questions crowding her tongue. Regina’s story was hers and hers alone and yet Maleficent was a huge part of that story, one Emma hadn’t truly known about until recently. It was very obvious that Maleficent had held an important place in Regina’s heart, still did, and Emma wanted to know, to understand. She was bound to them both now, albeit in completely different ways.

"What was she like?" She finally asked, her fingers stilling their path through Maleficent’s hair and dropping to rest on the other woman’s blanket-covered leg, not quite able to forgo some form of contact.

"Obnoxiously optimistic," she answered, obvious fondness filling the words.

"Regina?"

"Once, she was as annoying as you."

Emma’s eyebrow rose as she tried to imagine that. Maleficent had known Regina at a time in her life that Emma knew very little about and, if she had to guess, neither did anyone else. She’d never heard about the early years of Regina’s time as Queen, not from her mother, or Henry, or the book, or anyone else who knew her, before. She always heard about the Evil Queen, the tyrant, the killer; and sometimes, Regina as a very young woman when she’d first met Snow, but nothing in between.

Sometimes, Emma thought she saw her, that younger Regina. It was there in glimpses when she felt safe, or she was looking at Henry. There was an innocence, a hopefulness to Regina’s face, like watching the sun come out from behind a cloud and chase the shadows of her life away. It happened very, very rarely but it was breathtaking to behold and Emma could admit, if only to herself, that she’d been addicted to those little moments well before she decided to set herself on fire.

She loved that side of Regina, just as she loved the imposing mayor, and the unstoppable force that had been a queen. Emma loved all of her, even what she hadn't yet seen.

She still had a very hard time imagining a Regina who was anything like her except in the ways they had both been marked, shaped and scarred by life. The way they saw the world in shades of grey, the way they fought for what was theirs, the anger and instinct to lash out instead of being vulnerable, their love for their son, these were things that Emma had long known she shared with Regina. It was something to consider there was even more.

It was clear from her tone and the softness around her eyes that Maleficent had loved Regina then and loved her still.

"She's not as young as I was," Regina spoke softly, surprising Emma and Maleficent both. She sat up, something fond in her expression. "Emma, you are wise in a way I never was, especially not the memory of me that Mal keeps so fondly." Shifting, passed a hand over her face, then frowned, sniffing the air and taking in the scents drifting up from the kitchen. "Seems they're not afraid of using my spices,” she sighed.

"They can be kind," Mal whispered, reaching for Regina with clumsy fingers. "They're not the best at showing it, and their cooking leaves much to be desired, but they are caring."

The momentary flash of ire melted off Regina’s face instantly and she took Maleficent’s hand, holding it tight and pulling their fingers in towards her chest. "I know." Her attention was wholly on Maleficent now and Regina edged closer, her other hand pressing to Mal’s forehead as a frown pulled at her brows. It was such a simple, easy gesture, one that Regina had made dozens of times already and Emma herself had echoed when she’d first walked into the room, but it made heat flare, hot and bright in Emma's chest as they drew closer. It was drinking the fire all over again, so strong was the instinct that rose up from somewhere deep in her mind. What she initially took for jealousy was instead something more, something better she realized. Both of them were hers to protect, to keep safe, to coil around and shield from the darkness. Her strength would keep them safe, because Emma would keep both of them close, near to her. It should have felt alien, this ancient desire, but it rose within her, promising that no one and nothing would take what was hers, and Emma had no idea how to fight it. She didn’t want to.

She wanted to enfold them both, keep them safe beneath her wings. She didn't have wings to cover them with, she'd never had wings, but she remembered the sensation of pulling those she loved beneath great pinions, remembered keeping them close to her massive body to shield them from any harm. For a moment the bedroom faded from view as Emma turned inward, the surge of feelings impossible to distinguish from her own. She wanted but she didn’t understand and for a moment she floundered, adrift in magic that was too powerful and her own emotions amplified. Her body quivered, muscles straining to move her, to cross the space and touch Regina, hold her safe and feel her body against Emma’s own. She thought she shouldn’t do that but she couldn’t remember why...

"Emma, come," Maleficent’s voice, dry and sure and steady. It was soft, still weak, but there was knowledge, understanding in those words. It cut through Emma’s confusion, pulled her back to where she sat on the bed in Regina’s guest room, Regina and Maleficent watching her. Maleficent’s voice might have been soft but she made it a command anyway. Tilting her head towards Regina, she sighed and shut her eyes. "Hold her, it'll be easier."

Emma didn’t have to be told twice, moving as if propelled and Maleficent nodded when Emma sat on the bed beside Regina. When she hesitated though, it was Regina who seemed to understand, holding out her hand. “It’s all right Emma,” Regina promised, and at the soft, first tentative touch on her back Regina shifted closer, leaning into Emma. It was the permission Emma needed and she curled against the smaller woman, wrapping her arms around Regina's waist and half-guiding her into Emma's lap, resting her forehead against Regina’s temple.

A distant part of Emma knew this should have been freaking her out. It was too much too soon. She had spent a lifetime learning to keep her distance and in the last decade only Henry had been able to breach her defenses, walking right through them and into her heart and yet...this felt so right. Her pulse slowed as she breathed Regina in, felt the way she relaxed into Emma’s hold. Emma could actually feel the tension leaving Regina as well, both their hearts calming in tandem. For the first time in a long time, Emma felt grounded, as if there were no place else she needed to be, beyond right here. Regina was here, and hers, and she was Regina’s.

Regina's breath shuddered in her chest, and she leant into Emma, relaxing in her arms. They belonged here, touching as much as they could.

Maleficent who had been watching them both closely with narrowed eyes seemed to relax, then nodded again, as if pleased. "I don't know many humans who have survived dragon fire. It may not be possible to go through the flames and emerge unchanged, especially after you've shared it. At least you'll be together with the consequences."

Regina smirked, but it was a softer expression than normal. Emma guessed it was because she could also hear the relief beneath Maleficent’s usual nonchalance. She had been worried about both of them, not just Regina and Emma didn’t fight the feeling of gratitude. Maybe she was just raw from the tension with her parents, or maybe it was simply the force of Mal’s personality, even weakened, but there was something to be said for realizing an ancient, powerful magical being gave a crap whether you lived or died.

Emma had had few enough of that care in her life, she wasn’t above accepting it from unexpected places now, and whatever else Maleficent was, she was no threat to her, Regina or Henry.

"It would have been a mess otherwise,” Regina replied, her words warmly teasing. “You starting to decompose, Emma and I burnt to a crisp and the Sea Bitch and the Dognapper taking over the town."

Maleficent's smile was barely a real movement of her lips, but Emma sensed it as if it was bright. She felt it, even though her eyes insisted that little had changed. She also shared Regina's concern and the warmth of her desire to protect, which was softer than Emma's, more restrained.

“Yes well, I suppose I should thank you for not letting me expire,” Maleficent looked down, picking at an imaginary thread.

The response was immediate, easy and instinctual. Emma and Regina reached out as one, resting their hands on Maleficent’s arm. None of them said anything, they didn’t have to. Sometimes, there was nothing to be said. Silently, Emma promised herself she would find Maleficent and Regina’s child. They needed her back, both of them, and Emma could do that. She could help another family find each other.

The silence in the room was comforting, but thick, and finally Mal shifted, swallowing. Her tone was soft when she spoke, though. "You two should eat. It'll be best while it's fresh. And you know how those two get when someone doesn’t appreciate their efforts."

The soft sound of amusement Regina made suggested there was a story there, but Emma didn’t ask. Instead, she pushed away the urge to touch Maleficent again, to smooth her hair or stroke her cheek. The intimacy might have been hers, Maleficent's skin seemed as familiar as her own in her memory, but she still had her pride and while the dragon in Emma wanted to touch and protect, the orphan and self-made woman knew when to hold back. Maleficent needed care, not coddling or pity.

With one last gentle kiss of Regina’s temple, Emma moved off the bed and stood, heading towards the door. She paused, waiting for Regina, who did hold Maleficent's cheek for a moment, before she left. She appeared relieved by the warmth she found there, and she straightened the blankets before she met Emma in the doorway.

Ursula passed them on her way up the stairs, carrying her own heaped bowl of pasta and something in a steaming mug that must have been for Maleficent. One of her eyebrows rose as she caught the way Emma's hand rested on Regina's back, but she said nothing. Emma couldn't help wondering what her parents would say, if they saw the same gesture.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter because I couldn't find a good place to cut it and hey, it's a long weekend for me.

It wasn't the best dinner she'd had, but the villains cooked as well as her parents did. Cruella and Granny argued throughout, and their levels of disdain for each other were amusing, and exhausting. Henry and Ruby had been watching a film together when Granny left, and he sounded like he was enjoying his visit. Emma ate mechanically as they talked, because she knew she needed the food. Regina was worse; she half-fell asleep at the table three times before Emma gave up on her finishing all of her spaghetti and suggested they head to bed. Cruella and Granny shared a look, and perhaps their only agreement of the evening in a silent discussion, as Emma and Regina left together. 

Emma didn't care; she belonged with Regina, and she followed her all the way up to Regina's bedroom. She knew logically that she should grab her bag and head for the living room, or Henry's room, but she picked up the bag and took a step after Regina before she made herself halt.

"I'll go--" Emma started, but the words were a lie, and they knew it. She wasn't going anywhere, even though she should, she should leave Regina alone, except--

Regina saved her with a shy, sleepy smile. "You'll stay," she said, waving Emma in to the master bedroom.

"It's not weird if I do?" Emma asked, even as she dropped her bag in the corner and started to unpack. 

"You belong here," Regina said, "and you know it just as much as I do." This time her hand rested on Emma's back, and that connection was everything right with the world. Regina's touch held truth and the promise of belonging the way nothing else ever had. 

"Isn't that strange?" Emma asked, even as she turned into Regina's arms, staring at her lips. "Too fast? I don't want to push you."

Regina's warm stomach pressed against hers. "You can push me a little," she said, taking a step back towards the bed. "I like it when you do." She leaned back, just a little, and Emma took a step, then another, and they were so close to the bed. 

"You meet me," Emma said, moving her head closer. "You push back."

Nodding, Regina licked her lips and smiled, promising only to surrender if Emma made it worth her while. They were both so tired, and spent, and they'd already been in this bed once today, yet they needed to be there again. She had to touch Regina sober, to memorise her skin while her fingers were under her control, not burning. 

"Did you want this?" Emma whispered, stroking Regina's cheek, then touching her lips. Without makeup, Regina's lips were less red than usual, but still full of promise. There was something precious about her vulnerability, and how little there was between them that they hadn't shared. 

"Yes," Regina answered, her voice strong and sure. "Emma, yes." 

"You want me?" She asked and the burning desire for Regina's skin against hers swelled in her belly. She almost couldn't believe it, because Regina was too beautiful, too extraordinary to be with her, yet she was. 

Regina tugged Emma's shirt in response, pulling her back until Regina's legs hit the bed behind them. "I want you," she teased. Regina kissed her, reminding Emma what fire tasted like, then pulled away before Emma could lose herself in the sensation of her lips. "I wanted the dragon fire, I wanted you then, and I want you now." She sank onto the bed, pulling her purple t-shirt over her head and exposing her lacy bra as an invitation.

Taking a step forward, Emma sank between Regina's legs. She took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of her as she nuzzled her bare stomach. Regina shivered, running her hands through Emma's hair and urging her closer. Emma kissed her stomach, then brought her hands to the metal button of Regina's jeans. She unfastened them, sliding down the zipper, then forced herself to stop, to look at Regina's rich brown eyes. 

"It was you before, and me, but not us?" 

Regina lay back, letting Emma crawl up onto the bed on top of her. Emma balanced on her arms, then let her weight rest on Regina. Her thigh slipped between Regina's legs, making her sigh. 

"It was us, in a way. Maleficent was always like that, alien, intense," Regina said, staring up at Emma with absolute trust. "I needed that then. I didn't know what I wanted, what felt good. I'd never--" she broke off and Emma kissed her cheek, then her chin, finally her lips and their tongues met, slow and hungry. "Snow's father and I, we weren't compatible. I had a duty, and I tried to do it, but it-"

"It hurts," Emma finished for her, resting her hand on Regina's chest, between the perfect curves of her breasts. She would have given anything to take the regret from her. "If you're afraid, if the person you're with isn't someone you want, it hurts." She left a trail of kisses from Regina's mouth to her shoulder, then worked her way back up. "I'm sorry."

"Maleficent never hurt me," Regina promised, reaching up to hold Emma's cheek. "She guided me, let me discover feelings, sensations-" Regina paused, taking a desperate breath as she stared up at Emma, "-I didn't know it could be like that."

Emma kissed her, again and again, because she'd had Neal, and he'd been soft and gentle and listened to her. He'd let her explore, and encouraged her, and he'd been kind and warm, but Regina hadn't been touched like that until a dragon took her. A monster flew her away from what was supposed to be her family and helped her find pleasure, and love. Emma wondered if her mother knew what Regina had suffered under the same roof. Had they talked about it? Was having sex be like that simply part of what was expected? Cora hadn't had a heart, so she must not have cared. She wouldn't have warned Regina, or protected her. 

The heat of her dragon-fire fuelled desire to protect flared like a geyser, but it wasn't just magic. It was Emma too, because she knew what happened to people when they got in bad relationships. She'd seen them in foster care, on the streets, and a few times she'd been close, but never trapped like Regina and unable to leave. Emma left when she couldn't handle a situation, and she'd always been able to escape.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked, running her hand over Regina's breast and the cool fabric of her bra. 

Regina squirmed beneath her, pressing upward against Emma's body. She smiled, and warmth filled her eyes. "Yes."

She knew then that she could take Regina however she wished, and Regina welcomed her, not just her hands, but her mouth, and the burning emotional connection that insisted this was what must happen, what must be right. 

Emma slid off the bed and stepped out of her jeans, because they were tight, and hot, and she wanted to feel Regina's flesh against hers. Regina sat up just a little, and Emma reached around to undo her bra as they kissed. Regina's breath sped up, just like Emma's, and the more they touched, the more they needed to stay in contact. Emma remembered Regina's skin like a familiar stretch of road. She knew where the marks were, where the tiny dark spots made constellations on her olive skin. Regina's silky bra slipped from her chest and fell to the bed. Emma tugged her tank top up and off, then dropped down to kiss Regina's bare breasts. 

A piece at a time, the rest of their clothing fell to the edge of the bed, then slid off, forgotten as they found more ways to touch each other. The more Emma felt, the more she wanted, the more she had to have, and she could have listened to Regina's soft moans of pleasure for the rest of eternity. Sometimes she knew where to move her hand before Regina asked, before the whispered instructions of 'harder, deeper, more' slipped into her ears. She took Regina first, using her mouth and her hands to work her past gasping into the desperate surprise of orgasm. While Regina trembled beneath her, Emma held her close, stroking sweaty hair off of her neck. 

"You just know, don't you?" Regina asked, as they lay together, half beneath the sheets. "I don't know how to describe it, there are moments where I feel you, like you're in me,and then I just--"

"I was in you," Emma said, smirking and rolling off to give Regina time to catch her breath. Regina followed her, resting on her chest and looking up at her face, satiated and calm. Her skin glowed, and passion, need, and desire all seemed to have melted together in her deep brown eyes. 

"Not like that," Regina replied, shaking her head. "In here," she said, tapping her chest. "I feel you, I guess I always feel you, but when we're close-"

"Naked," Emma interrupted. 

"Together," Regina corrected, rolling her eyes just a little. "You feel it, don't you?"

"I feel you," Emma said, and Regina nipped at her neck. Smirking, Emma ran her hands over Regina's damp thighs. "You mean something else, something magical?"

"Yes," Regina said, sitting up and staring down at Emma. "Like a thread."

"More like a cable," Emma replied, teasing Regina with the lightest of fingers. "Something made of molten metal that connects us."

Regina shivered and tilted her hips back, still sensitive after her orgasm. "It's my turn," she reminded Emma, then kissed her, deep and searching. When her hands, and mouth, worked their way down Emma's body, she started to understand what Regina had felt. Whatever was between them pulsed, growing in strength the more they touched, and Regina's hands couldn't be on her, within her, enough. She'd had good sex before, the kind where the sheets were all sweaty and breath seemed impossible to get enough of, but this was beyond. This was in her head, in her heart, within her to a level she didn't think she could share with anyone. 

And Regina- Regina was a blinding goddess with her mouth, then a demon. She sucked, nipped and brought Emma to the brink of the deadly kind of orgasm that seemed to stop her heart. From her toes to her ears, her body tingled, and she trembled against Regina, wrapping her arms around her to keep her close, warm and safe. Emma stroked her stomach, then her thigh, needing to keep her hands moving over Regina's gorgeous skin. 

"What?" she wondered, when Regina's eyes rested on her in the darkness. 

"We were gentle," Regina said, almost blushing. "I thought, well, the first time, we made such a mess."

"Do you want me to growl next time?" Emma teased, and she could still feel the dragon inside of her, echoing the desire to possess Regina completely, because she was her mate, and that was everything. 

"Not every time," Regina answered, taking the moment to kiss Emma again, and again, their lips almost sore from use. She left Emma alone in the bed to brush her teeth, and Emma stared up at the ceiling, half-watching Regina's beautiful naked body in the weak light of the master bathroom. 

"But sometimes, you'd like it to be rough?" Emma wondered, intrigued by the prospect. Maybe they could remember the magic that levitated them off of the bed, because that had been kind of incredible and would be worth doing again. 

Regina spat out her toothpaste and smirked at Emma over a towel. "Maybe I do."

Reluctantly dragging herself out of bed, Emma brushed her teeth while Regina washed her face and put some kind of sweet smelling cream around her eyes, and all the little things she did before really going to bed, because she was refined. 

Emma was pretty proud of herself for getting up to brush her teeth and splashing some water onto her face. Standing next to Regina in the little master bathroom was so domestic, so right, that Emma left her toothbrush in the holder next to Regina's and realised it was going to stay there. That was its new home, as Regina's bed was hers and when Regina curled around her to sleep, warm against the cool sheets, Emma's heart filled with peace. She belonged her, with Regina. Henry would be home in a few days, and Maleficent was safe, and even the nagging unease about her parents couldn't take that away.

* * *

By the time Henry came to check on his mothers a few days later, Gepetto had measured the front door for a replacement and had begun the repair work. The hole where the door had been was covered in plastic and the walls around it had been repaired. Ursula and Cruella had taken her car to Granny's so they could return with dinner (and probably have a drink while they were there), and Maleficent was asleep. She slept easier now, not like a dead thing, but she still was rarely awake and her coughing spells chilled Emma's stomach. 

Henry had a million questions when he returned to the mess and the chaos in his house, and Emma started answering them as soon as she got her hug. Maleficent had been exposed to dark magic, and she was ill, she'd be staying with them for awhile while she healed. It wasn't anything that would spread. Emma and Regina were both fine, just exhausted because it had been a long few days and it had taken a lot of magic to help Maleficent recover. When Regina came downstairs, she hugged Henry and made sure he had his after school snack, then the subject of Emma being there slipped into the conversation. Regina had needed Emma's magic to heal Maleficent, because the latter was part dragon and healing her was much harder than healing an ordinary human. 

"And no," Regina insisted. "She won't be turning into a dragon around you, at least not for several weeks. She's very ill, Henry."

"Was it something from the book?" Henry asked, studying both of their faces over his toast and peanut butter. "Did she find something dark the author left behind?"

"It was the town line," Regina explained. She reached for Emma's hand beneath the table and they shared their strength through their fingers. It was funny how easily Emma had become addicted to Regina's touch. They needed to tell him about the abrupt change in their relationship because they'd screw up eventually, and it was time Henry knew everything. 

"Why can't she cross the town line?" Henry asked. 

Regina sighed, and Emma shifted closer to her, needing to be nearer. "Maleficent wasn't affected by the Dark Curse the way everyone else was. I kept her under the library, in dragon form. After Emma killed her, she was trapped as a wraith, then as ashes, until Cruella and Ursula brought her back. Crossing the town line stripped her of her magic and exposed her to its full strength, considering how powerful she is, being without her magic left quite a void for the Dark Curse to seep into. She's lucky to be alive."

"So you saved her, together?" Henry set down his glass of milk and looked between both of them, so proud of his moms. "That's great."

"Yeah," Emma said, grinning suggestively at Regina. "It was pretty great."

Regina blushed and nudged Emma under the table. Henry had no idea what Emma was referring to, so she ignored the nudge and looked at Regina. Regina squirmed, searching for words. Her grip on Emma's hand tightened and when she started to fidget with her other hand, Emma grabbed that one too. That was on top of the table and Henry stared at them both, surprised but not upset. He was a smart kid, after all. 

"Henry," Regina started. She twitched her hands even within Emma's, then sighed, and met his eyes. "There's something I have to tell you."

He nodded and smiled, as if he already knew what she was going to say. He beamed at both of them, then reached over and placed his hand on top of theirs. "It's okay if you're dating, I think that's pretty great. You'll be really happy together."

"Thanks, kid," Emma said, trying not to laugh. Of course, he already had them figured out. 

Regina took a breath, centring herself before she smiled at their son. "I suppose that's true, and we appreciate your support, but that's not what I have to tell you." 

Drawing his hand back, Henry studied Regina's concerned face and his easy smile faded. "What is it, Mom?"

"I only just found out, Henry, and I don't want you to think I've been keeping this a secret from you," Regina paused and turned to Emma again, still searching for words. "Maleficent and I, well, we had a relationship before, in the Enchanted Forest. It's fairly complicated and I don't want to bore you with the magical details-"

"It's okay," Henry said, urging her to finish. "Just tell me."

"Maleficent and I, we were involved for some time, and her magic is very powerful. I was different then, darker, and she didn't tell me because I couldn't have been reasoned with. I wouldn't have listened," Regina paused again, struggling to find the words she wanted. 

Emma leaned closer, so she touched her shoulder, smiling gently and wishing she could make this easier. 

"Listened to what?" Henry asked, giving his mothers his full attention. "What didn't she tell you?"

Glancing down at their entwined hands, Regina swallowed. "Maleficent and I have a child, and she's missing. I didn't know about her, not until a few days ago when Maleficent told me." 

"You have a child?" Henry repeated, obviously trying to fit the idea into what he knew of magic. "How is that- I mean- is that possible? Why isn't your baby in the book? Is it a dragon?"

Regina continued to stare at the table, not looking up at Henry. She fidgeted with Emma's fingers, and eventually Emma had to let go of her hand and wrap an arm around her waist, just to steady her. "It's complicated. I didn't know much about magic then, and it was a surprise for Mal, too. I like to think that it would have been different, if I'd known, but I didn't, and when she discovered she was pregnant, she didn't tell me."

"Mom," Henry started, then he slid off his chair and circled the table to hug Regina tight. "It's okay. You're different now. You know that. Emma and I know that," he said, trying to ease Regina's guilt. "So where's your baby? How do you get her back?"

"We don't know," Emma said, after Regina let the question hang unanswered. "We're trying to find her. She's not in Storybrooke, so she might be in the outside world, which means we can't use magic to find her."

"But you find people," Henry said, turning his hope to Emma. "You'll find her, right?"

"We'll do the best we can," Emma promised. She hugged him too, sharing the embrace with Regina. "We're all getting good at research, and we'll find her for your mom, and Maleficent, okay?" 

Henry let himself be hugged a moment longer than he normally would, and Regina took a few sharp breaths, keeping back tears. Emma wished she could hold her close and make everything okay, but that would have to wait. 

"So you and Maleficent used to be together?" Henry asked, heading back to his chair and his toast. "What was that like?"

Regina's soft smile was one of the sweetest things Emma had ever seen; a glimpse of the Regina beneath her armour. "We went flying together often, and being on a dragon is a wonderful thing. Maybe when she's feeling better, you can try it." 

"Really?" Henry's eyes went wide, and Emma had to look at Regina because letting a teenager go flying on a dragon really didn't seem to be the kind of parenting choice Regina would usually make. 

"We'll see," Regina said. She leaned into Emma, just a little, and Emma rested her chin on her shoulder. "Do you have homework?" 

Henry nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to head to the library and help Belle for awhile, then I'll do it there. It's quiet, and there's a desk I can use without bothering anyone."

"You don't bother us," Regina insisted.

"It's okay," he promised. "It's a good system. Belle likes the company." He finished his milk and the last bite of his toast. "I'm glad you told me, about you guys, and about the baby, my sister-" he stopped, as if trying to wrap his head around the idea. Poor kid already had an uncle younger than him, and he might have a sister the same age as his mother. "I hope you find her." 

"Thank you," Regina answered. 

He grinned at them both, grabbed his backpack and left. It was probably for the best, Cruella and Ursula would be back soon and Emma wasn't sure what kind of influence they'd be on a teenager (probably bad) and her parents would inevitably get involved, and be concerned that Maleficent was still staying in Regina's house, let alone Regina and Emma dating. 

Emma smiled at Henry's retreating figure then wrapped both arms around Regina, just for the moment. "See, he's okay," she promised, smiling and hoping some of Henry's optimism would wear off on Regina. "He's fine with you and me, and his sister, wherever she is."

"He says that now," Regina said. She sighed, shutting her eyes before they betrayed her. 

"Hey, he's okay, I promise," Emma said, kissing her forehead. "He's a good kid. The best, really."

"It's just a lot for him to take in."

"And he's fine," Emma promised. "He's totally fine. Having a half-sister is much less traumatic than knowing your grandfather is the Dark One, or being kidnapped by Peter Pan, or any of the things that have happened to the poor kid. He's fine with having his moms date, which is pretty modern of him." 

Regina shifted on her chair, turning closer to Emma so that she could rest her forehead against Emma's. "He is a good kid."

"The best," Emma repeated. "He's absolutely the best." 

Kissing Emma's cheek, Regina met her eyes and managed to smile; it was the kind that tore at Emma's heart and turned it to mush. "Thank you."

"We'll find your child," Emma promised. "For you and the dragon lady upstairs."

"She's really not so bad," Regina said, "just takes some getting used to."

Emma shrugged and didn't say that she'd probably accept just about anything Regina needed her to do. Maybe part of the dragon fire was still in her, burning away her concern. Regina's ex was a dragon, and she was staying in the house. Emma had to remind herself that it wasn't her house, but she was fairly certain that she wouldn't be going back to the sofa at the loft any time soon. Which was quick, maybe too quick for a relationship that she hadn't even contemplated yesterday, unless she had. Part of her obviously had, because as soon as her inhibitions were gone, all she wanted was Regina.

* * *

With her work spread over the kitchen table, Regina sighed and reached again for the coffee pot. She poured what was left in the pot into her mug and set it back down. She drank it black, because she needed the caffeine more than she had any opinion on the taste. She finished reading the plans for the upgrade of the telephone lines and signed off on the work order to repair the latest damage to the clocktower that the Chernobog had caused. Setting those aside in a pile with everything else she'd finished, she took a moment to rub at the growing ache just behind her temples. Coffee was not a substitute for sleep, no matter how much she drank, because with it came the irritability and jitters she couldn't shake after the fourth cup. 

Checking her watch, she listened upstairs and heard nothing that made her worry, which eased the knot in her stomach for the moment. Cruella had left on some task she'd been reticent to discuss, leaving Regina alone with Ursula and their sick dragon. Maleficent slept much of the time; the fragments of dark magic that filled her lungs had settled into something like a bad case of pneumonia. Three times now Ursula had used water magic to clear the liquid mess out of Mal's lungs that made it so hard for her to breathe. Each time Ursula had pulled remnants of the dark curse, blood and fluid out, Mal's lungs just filled up again later. She'd finally started to respond as if it was an illness, running a fever, and potentially starting to fight off the darkness that had taken hold within her on her own body, like an infection. 

Emma and Henry had gone to the library on the foggy Saturday morning, researching with Belle what they could find about the remnants of curses, magical illnesses and dragons. Regina wasn't sure what they'd find; she'd been through Mal's spellbook twice looking for answers and found nothing that could help. Mal hadn't kept a journal, or any friends close enough to ask for help. Her fever had spiked in the early morning and now she was only lucid for short periods of time. The delirium was the worst, because she was completely unreachable at times, lost in painful memories that Regina couldn't understand or rescue her from. Emma had even gone to Aurora for help yesterday, wondering if she remembering anything that she'd even been told about dragons. Rumplestiltskin perhaps might have known something, but there was no way to contact him, and Regina wasn't sure if they would have risked it. 

Setting aside the town's paperwork for her deputy mayor to collect later that day, Regina took up her mother's spellbook and tried not to shudder at the familiar scent of the pages. Cora had written hundreds of pages on magic, but nothing about healing. If there was anything in here, Regina would have to reverse her way back from a curse, perhaps something one about drowning, or suffocating. She paged through, forcing herself to read through her steadily growing headache. They'd risked too much, spent too much magic to lose Mal now, and even though she had gotten no worse, Regina worried that she would need still more from them to heal fully. She was missing something, and she wouldn't let her mother keep it from her. 

"Regina!" Ursula called down from upstairs, her voice sharp and worried. 

Dropping the Cora's spellbook onto the table, Regina teleported instead of running up the staris, saving the time. 

Mal lay curled on her side, her hair damp with sweat around her face, and her eyes glazed and unfocused. She mumbled, speaking to herself in a language Regina wasn't sure she'd recognise even if Mal was cognisant. Her breathing rasped, and something in her chest gurgled. Ursula already had the mixing bowl out, and her face was tight with concentration. 

"It took most of a day this time," Ursula said, wiping the frothy brown liquid from Mal's pale lips. "Her lungs are filling slower, and the gunk that comes out is less cursed."

"Dragon fire should have burned it out," Regina said, shaking her head. "It should have worked. Very few things can withstand pure dragon fire."

"I guess the Dark Curse is one of them," Ursula sighed, stroking Mal's shoulder. She leant down to whisper to her, even though Mal probably wouldn't understand what she said, or remember. "Honey, this is going to hurt, and I'm sorry, but it'll be better when it's over." 

Regina took Maleficent's burning hands and held them in her own. She focused her energy, freeing her magic to support Maleficent's healing and her struggle for breath. When Emma returned they could bolster her together, because the two of them were strong enough to push the curse back, for awhile. Doing so left them both exhausted, but they could ease Mal's suffering, so they did, as often as they could. It was taking its toll on both of them. Even Emma, her indomitable Emma, drank too much coffee to keep herself awake, ate too many terrible sugary covered donuts, and slept like the dead when she could. Thinking of Emma, beautiful, stubborn, precious Emma, made her magic flow faster, easier, and the draining was less severe. 

Ursula's spell drew the liquid out of Mal's lungs once again, and it was paler, less black than it had been. The Sea Bitch smiled wearily, stroking Mal's forehead as her breathing eased. Regina thought of Emma, filling her heart with warmth to overcome her concern. 

"It's all right," Ursula said, repeating it until Mal's breathing was slower, calmer. "You're safe. We've got you, Regina's here. We're going to find your baby, wherever she is."

Regina poured her magic into Maleficent, easing her pain, healing the abused tissues of her lungs, concentrating on the difficult process of rebuilding her strength, until her own head swam. Tiny sparkles filled her vision, and one of Ursula's tentacles slithered up to steady her around the shoulders.

"Careful, you don't have much left. Don't you pass out on me too." 

Coming back to herself, Regina took a tentative breath, then another, trying to calm the roiling of her stomach. "Sorry."

"She's getting better," Ursula said, her tentacle still supporting Regina's back. "But hey, don't make me call the saviour to put you back together."

Regina shut her eyes; she should have been more careful, but it had been so hard to watch Maleficent's illness. It took much longer for her head to stop swimming, and for a moment, her stomach rose into her throat. She was suddenly tender, fragile, because she had given too much. 

When Regina opened her eyes again, Ursula sat watching them both. She tilted her head towards Maleficent, lowering her tentacle back down now that she trusted Regina to remain conscious. "She heals slowly, but she's tough. You know, she was weak for a long time after the baby came. Kept talking about you."

Reaching for Mal's hand, Regina wrapped it in hers, protecting her how she could. "About me?"

Ursula shifted to the chair, sitting back with her hands in her lap and her eyes wide in surprise. "She didn't tell you?"

"She didn't tell me many things," Regina answered. Mal's eyelids were still, which was more comforting than the way they twitched wildly when she was out of her mind with fever. 

Ursula turned her gaze out the window, peering through the trees as she remembered. "Cruella and I, neither of us ever wanted a family, and Mal never seemed too, then, she was pregnant and Mal wanted that baby. Didn't tell us you were involved until she went into labour. Then all she did was talk about you, her evil queen. We thought she'd go dragon, try to make it easier on herself, but she didn't. Had that baby the messy, human way." She turned back from the window, smiling down at Mal with a mix of revulsion and genuine affection. "Still don't know why, and then she was so happy with that little thing. Never thought I'd feel that way watching someone else, but Mal, she got to me, Cruella too. The three us of us could have retired, looked after that baby and stayed out of the fairy tales and the whole mess of everything that the heroes make, then they took her." 

Regina hadn't expected the pain in Ursula's voice, or the naked regret written across her face. She didn't know what to say, or how to respond. She'd been so consumed with revenge back then that she hadn't even known about the existence of her child before the very people she'd spent so much time hating had taken that child from the mother who wanted her so badly. 

"We tried to find her, to get her back, but it was old magic, deep stuff that can't be resisted. We were banished here, separated, in a world without magic," Ursula stopped and shook her head. "I don't know how Mal kept herself together long to be swept up in your curse." She reached over to smooth Mal's hair, not bothering to hide her concern. "Of course, having lived in the world without magic, I almost envy Mal, being a dragon, then dead, not having to deal with idiotic landlords that you can't strangle or cell phone providers, and bills. Whomever invented bills really should be considered a far more devious villain than any of us."

Regina couldn't help smiling a little. She hadn't minded the complications of the new age and its detailed economy, but then she'd always had enough money, and running a kingdom had been one of the few joys in her previous life. "I think you'll find Belle a much kinder landlord than any you had out there."

"That little maid inherited all of Gold's property when he was banished, didn't she?" Ursula asked, swaying a tentacle in amusement. "Well now, that is more interesting than smarmy bastard who called my hole in the wall an apartment and charged for it like a palace."

They talked for a while longer, Ursula speaking of nothing important, while Mal slept. Regina had few conversations like this, even though she was more comfortable around the town than she'd ever been, everyone out there was someone that she'd cursed, that had known her as evil. Ursula didn't care about that, and for all her own darkness, talking to her was easier. She had nothing to judge. Cruella the sociopath was her best friend, and the injured dragon sleeping beside them was family. She'd never heard how they met Mal, but the three of them were still close, like they'd been in the old days. Regina had thought them both as washed up, simple villains who only wanted to kill puppies and torment pirates, but they cared about Mal. They'd looked after her while Regina disappeared into her own darkness. 

They'd been there for Mal, been her family, while Regina destroyed and burned and hated. No wonder Mal had lost when she'd come to take the Dark Curse. She'd already been pregnant and hadn't wanted to risk the fight. Regina should have noticed that she moved differently, that she fought back with so little malice. Perhaps that little black unicorn had been meant for their daughter, when she came, or maybe Mal had given in to her emotions and had used the unicorn's horn to see visions of their child. Did she remember those little glimpses? Maybe there were clues, because there had to be, somewhere. Their daughter couldn't just disappear. Everyone else had found a way to Storybrooke: Emma, Henry, August, Neal, even the Snow Queen. Their daughter belonged here, with them, with the mother who'd lost so much, and risked so much to see her again. Emma would find her, because finding people was what Emma did, and Regina believed that with her whole heart. 

Ursula smiled at her, with that knowing look that everyone in Regina's house seemed to have lately. "I know what you're thinking. Your Emma will find the kid, and maybe, we'll all turn over a new leaf, stop being villains, at least, most of the time." 

Regina returned her smile, staring down at Mal. Would she fit in to the town? She'd always lived apart, but with Regina, Emma and Henry as her family, and the town changing, developing into a community Regina was truly proud of, perhaps Mal would be willing to find a place here. She had been lonely for such a long time that she'd forgotten what it was to be cared for. Regina had reminded her once, and this time she had help. She had Emma, and Emma loved the way so few did, with her whole heart, so carefully, then all at once, and Henry... He already had an abundance of family, some of them more heroic than others, but he'd get along with Mal. He'd love her stories, once she was well enough to tell them, and Regina wanted him to fly. To know that freedom, as she had. 

"What do you think you'd like to do?" Regina asked, curious about what Ursula and Cruella intended to do now that they were here. There was no reason for Ursula and Cruella to isolate themselves, there must be something they liked to do. Even if it was take over that sleazy little dive bar and improve the quality of the gin. 

Ursula pondered the question, and never got to answer, because magic swirled downstairs. Regina felt it grow, then burst before ebbing away. Emma was down there, but something was wrong, itching in the corners of her mind like crawling insects. She released Mal's limp hand and started for the doorway. "Emma's back."

Ursula's eyes widened but she didn't move to follow. "And?"

"Something's wrong." Regina left her and Maleficent there, half-jogging to the top of the stairs. She saw Emma once she was half-way down, and she simply stood there, arms at her sides, as stiff as if she were petrified, like August. "Emma?"

Her eyes were red-rimmed, wet and shining with unshed tears. Emma looked up slowly, her betrayal naked on her face, then retreated to the bottom stair and sat. Regina hurried down, sitting next to her without touching her, even though she wanted more than anything to wrap her arms around her. 

"My parents lied to me," Emma said, her voice as rough as sandpaper. "They took- they took Maleficent's baby, your baby. They took her and sent her away to the land without magic, with no one, not even a kid like August to look after her." She didn't turn her head; couldn't look at Regina. "They lied."

"Emma, I'm sorry."

Emma stared straight ahead. "They thought I would be dark, evil. So they took her baby, your baby, to make her evil instead." She turned her head to Regina, her body as rigid as stone. "They stole a baby because they thought I'd be evil."

"You're not," Regina said softly, wishing she could do something, anything to soften Emma's betrayal. 

"Of course not," Emma muttered in a voice full of self-loathing, "I can't be. They didn't give me the choice."

"Emma--"

"They took your daughter, Maleficent's daughter. Stole her from her bed. Mal nearly died looking for her. That baby- girl- woman- grew up alone, without her mothers because of my parents, because-" Emma stopped, staring at the floor between her feet. "Because they didn't trust me to be good."

"They were afraid," Regina began to defend them out of habit; she was the evil one. "I was threatening to destroy their happiness."

"No, Regina," Emma stopped her, her hand floating just over Regina's thigh without making contact. "This isn't your fault."

"I persecuted them both, chased the Dark Curse to the ends of the earth--"

"But that had nothing to do with me. You didn't threaten to turn me into a villain. You, did nothing to me. You would have cursed me to live in Storybrooke, and I don't know, maybe that wouldn't have been so bad." 

Regina wanted to hold her, to wrap her arms around her tight and cling to her until the pain started to fade, but she resisted, because Emma's body language was so furious and apart. 

"They put an innocent at risk to protect me from the chance of me being evil. They treated a baby as expendable, your baby. Maleficent's baby," Emma said, her voice so tight that it stung Regina's chest. "And they lied. They said Ursula and Cruella brought Maleficent back because they were villains, because they wanted to hurt everyone, but, what have they done since they got here? Broke your door down to save their friend, cooked dinner, drank your wine-- how does any of that compare to taking a child from her mother?" She shoved herself off the stair and paced in front of Regina, her boots thudding on the floor. "And they say they did it for me, because they loved me so much that they'd take a baby."

"Love is complicated, Emma," Regina said, leaving the stair with her hand on the wall. Perhaps her concern had made the dizziness worse, or she'd just stood up too fast, but the little twinkling lights were back in the sides of her vision and when she took a step towards Emma, she stumbled.

"Hey--" Emma grabbed Regina's arms, moving so fast that the room spun around her. "What's wrong?"

Grateful for Emma's stabilising presence, Regina tried to shake it off. "I'm fine."

"You're dead white."

She swallowed, then licked her lips, trying to pull herself back. "I, I healed Mal, put too much into it, I guess. It'll be-"

Emma's eyes hardened, anger burning fierce within her, and she rested her forehead against Regina's. Magic rose in Emma, then flowed between them. Her dizziness immediately began to fade, replaced with the warmth and vibrancy of Emma's magic, coursing through her like a transfusion of heat. Holding her a moment longer, Emma vanished as soon as Regina was stable. Regina didn't know where she was, and panic rose in her chest, hot and horrid, before she felt Emma again and realised she had gone only upstairs. 

Running up the stairs, hand on the banister to steady herself, Regina hurried into the guest room. Emma knelt on the bed, her legs over Maleficent's; her posture possessive, as if Mal was in danger from something that could come in the door. 

"What's she doing?" Ursula asked, her tentacles already up to stop Emma if she needed to.

Regina shook her head. "I don't know. She won't hurt her. Emma wouldn't--"

Bright white light, bright enough to hurt Regina's eyes, grew in Emma's hands. She held it over Maleficent's chest, forming it into a sphere that crackled like a fireball of hot phosphorous or something equally dangerous. Emma drew her hands back, then forced that ball of light into Maleficent's chest. For a moment, nothing happened, and the silence hung over them like a shroud, then something dark, evil in a way that made the back of Regina's neck sting, rose from Mal's body to take the ball of light's place. It reached outward, hungry, wanting, with lashes of sick blackness that stole light. 

Emma held that thing, whatever it was, in her hands, staring down at it in disgust, frustration and all the hurt from her parents' betrayal, etched on her face. She held that ball of remnants of dark curse, then crushed it between her hands, forcing it out of existence with a shift in pressure that made Regina's ears pop and her sinuses ache. 

The sudden absence of such powerful magic made the air sweet and light, as if a thunderstorm had passed. Emma sank down over Mal's chest, lying over her almost as if they were lovers. Ursula hurried closer, reaching for Mal's arm to take her pulse, to check her breathing, to make sure she was okay, then Mal proved it for them. 

She wrapped her arms around Emma's shoulders, stroking Emma's blonde hair. She whispered something to Emma that neither Regina or Ursula could hear, then Emma rolled off, panting on the other side of the bed. Ursula rushed to Maleficent's side, and Regina ran to Emma. For some strange, incredibly Emma reason, the saviour smiled up at Regina, lazy and content, as if she hadn't just completed a magic ritual that Regina didn't understand and didn't think was possible. 

"Hey," Emma said, reaching up for Regina's hand. She sat up and Regina wanted to push her back down, to make sure she was safe, but Emma was fine. She'd insist she was, and Regina didn't want to believe her, but she radiated health and power. Just being near her felt like the reflection of the sun. "Sorry about that."

"What did you do?"

"Destroyed the remnants dark curse still within me," Maleficent explained, coughing once, but she smiled, and it was one of the rare smiles that Regina had no trouble believing. "Thank you."

"But how did you-?" Regina demanded. Emma sat up, pulling Regina down, wrapping her arms around her and holding her as they sat together on the side of the bed. With Emma's hands on her stomach, her curiosity seemed less important. 

Shrugging, Emma rested her head on Regina's shoulder. "I don't know, I just- I mean- I was so angry, and then I knew how the curse worked and how to pull it out of her."

"You shouldn't know that," Ursula said, and Regina had to agree.

"I don't even know how to do that."

Mal smirked and rolled to her side so she could get a better look at Emma. "I thought it might be possible, but I doubted anyone had the power to do it all at once."

"You knew?" Regina demanded. 

Mal blinked and the slow, almost painful movement of her eyelids reminded Regina how close she'd been to death. She still managed to look far too pleased with herself. "I suspected. You and Ursula would have gotten it all out eventually, it just-" and she yawned, reaching sleepily towards Regina and Emma. "Would have taken awhile."

"And you didn't think that was something we needed to know?" Regina demanded, trying to fight down her anger as she held Emma's arms tight against her. 

Ursula had to help Mal finish turning over, because even though she seemed to be back with them, she was still incredibly weak. 

"Didn't want you to try and hurt yourselves," Mal said, and there was a hint of truth in that. It was more likely that she'd feared they would fail and hadn't wanted to risk the attempt, but Regina's relief was so intense that she was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. "And when Emma tried what she did a moment ago, I was hardly in a position to stop her."

"I still don't understand," Emma said, turning her head to nuzzle Regina's cheek, because she needed that to be calm. "I was so angry at my parents, I still am, how could that make me know something that I don't know?"

"You're connected to the Dark Curse, sweet saviour," Mal answered, and the way she smiled at Emma was so proud that it reminded Regina of an older time, when she'd been on the receiving side of that smile.

"But Snow White cast this version of the curse," Regina interrupted, trying to make sense of it. "It doesn't have a saviour, and what did Emma replace it with, what was she doing to you?"

Mal's soft eyelashes fluttered, then she moved her hand closer and Emma took it. Their fingers wound together tentatively, and Regina trusted them both to look after each other, to be her family. "The Dark Curse moved into the void being stripped of magic left in me, Emma chased it out and replaced it."

Regina still couldn't make sense of it. "With what?"

"Anger," Mal said simply, and her eyes closed again. 

Regina still had so many questions, but Mal's eyes stayed closed, and they'd have to wait until she could explain more. 

Emma let herself be held a moment longer, then she pulled away, still hurt and even more confused. "I don't understand how that would have worked."

"The Dark Curse is a hungry magic, it needs to be fed to survive," Regina said, already missing the warmth of Emma's body against hers. "It must have been trying to feed on Maleficent, like a disease, and you chased it out."

"But if I put my anger into her--" Emma began, then stopped, stuffing her hands into her jeans pockets as if they were weapons she needed to keep away from others.

"She's a dragon," Ursula remind them, settling the blankets around Maleficent's shoulders. "Fire and anger are related, so taking that in is easy for her. She'll be fine, probably even smug because it worked out the way she thought it would."

Regina stroked her empty palms with her fingers, acutely aware of how anger turned to fire. She touched Mal's forehead, and she was comfortably warm, not burning, or sweating as she'd been before. There was even a little pink in her lips and she finally seemed to be herself again. 

"But how did I know what to do?" Emma asked, staring from Ursula to Regina with a desperate concern that made Regina want to hold her all the more. "What if I made a mistake? I could have made her worse."

"It seems that was a risk Mal was willing to take," Ursula answered, shaking her head. "She's always been reckless."

"Emma, you did a good thing," Regina said, taking a step towards her and hoping she wouldn't flee. "It's all right."

"Just as long as anger doesn't lead me to the dark side, right?" It sounded like a joke, but Emma had no mirth in her voice. She left the room, retreating with her hurt and confusion. 

Ursula had Mal, so she didn't need to worry, and for the first time since she'd been brought to Regina's, Mal seemed better, like something had been lifted from her. She followed Emma back downstairs, then out into the backyard, where Emma stood, leaning against the apple tree that she'd once attacked with a chainsaw. The tree had recovered, and much like Emma's initially intrusive presence, Regina had grown used to it missing that branch. 

"You are right to be angry," Regina said, wishing she had better comfort to offer. "I know how easy it is to get swept up in something irrational, but this- this is something to be angry with your parents for, and me-" she paused, hating that she had to continue, "because I didn't tell you, and I knew."

Emma rested her hand on the bark of the tree, staring off into the distance, her back still to Regina. "Maleficent told you."

"Your mother-" Regina started, and it hurt her chest to continue, but she had to, because this was Emma, her Emma, and she deserved the truth. "She wanted to protect you from that kind of truth so she asked me not to say. I didn't know how awful the truth of it was until Mal told me. Emma, I'm so sorry."

Shrugging, Emma picked at the bark of the tree. "It's all right. You wanted to protect me, and this whole mess involves you too. My mother took your baby." She turned, staring at Regina with pain bright in her eyes. 

Regina took a step towards her, her bare feet cold in the damp grass. "I didn't know about her."

"Neal didn't know about Henry, because I never got to tell him, and I think about what Maleficent must have gone through, knowing you were out there and that she couldn't tell you, and then losing her baby, not giving her away so her life would be better, but having her taken." Emma balled her hands into fists and leaned against the tree for support. "How could they do that? How can they say it was for me?"

"They thought they were protecting you," she insisted, wishing she could believe it wholeheartedly. She didn't know what they were thinking and how they'd possibly justified taking a baby to themselves. Staring at Emma, hot tears started to run down her cheeks. "And they should have protected you, because they were afraid, because I- and I want to blame myself, Emma, I wish I could, because I caused so much pain, but then I think, and I can't stop thinking it: your mother's held my daughter, and I haven't."

Emma left the tree and caught her, holding her tight against her chest. "You know, you're so angry with you that I can't be," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around Regina's shoulders, holding her tightly enough that the knot her her stomach started to dissolve. "We're going to find your baby, you and me, because I owe it to both of you."

"Emma--"

"Let me do this," Emma said, stroking Regina's tears away before kissing her forehead. "We'll bring her back, together. Then you can hold her, because I know what it's like to see the child you never thought you wanted to see, and trust me, it's worth it." 

Regina nodded, hugging Emma as tight as she could, because she did want to see her baby, and hold her, and see her be with Mal, because she'd already lost so much time. They trembled together, out in the cold, wrapped in each other because they were each other's strength, even when Emma was angry and Regina couldn't fight the memories of who she'd once been, they had each other.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to racethewind10 and wapwani for being my handholders.
> 
> This chapter contains brief mentions of non-consensual sex (past Leopold and Regina).

Maleficent had fallen asleep in the early afternoon, before he'd been home, and when she woke up, Henry sat on the floor in front of her, playing some game that involved slaughtering everything in his path. This boy certainly enjoyed killing for being the child of the saviour. She had a vague awareness of the concept of video games, as if she'd heard the term, but it was fake knowledge, and her mind had always been terribly resistant to such things.

She yawned, and to her relief, she had the strength to lift her hand and cover her mouth, which she hadn't been able to do yesterday. So that was a victory, and it meant Regina was right and she should probably keep eating the ridiculous things Regina thought were healthy. Regina insisted on too many vegetables, green things had never been a part of her diet before and she didn't see why she had to eat them now. As fun as it was to argue with Regina, she hated making her sad, or Emma, because both of them put far too much emotion in their eyes, and she was weak, so she ate what they gave her.

That was her recuperative state, of course, and she'd be less sensitive to their feelings later, she hoped. Soon she should be able to hold a book and read it, or do something other than watch the moving pictures on Regina's television set, again, that was fake knowledge and it itched within her mind. She blinked a few times, trying to clear it, or at least help it settle. The Dark Curse had put many things in her head that she hadn't known before: electricity, Post Offices, the correct way to fill out a tax document, and microwaves, and it was all in her head, but not part of her, and it ached.

Pain of course, was relative, after twice breaking her ribs trying to cough up the remnants of that forsaken curse, she couldn't really complain about a headache, especially when it was almost nice to have that be her biggest concern. She was also hungry, but Regina and Emma, would certainly have some idea for dinner and would fuss over her, which she hated.

Not _really_ hated.

They were kind of sweet. It was undignified to need to be helped, or coaxed to eat, because she hadn't eaten human food for decades, and it was all so mushy, cooked (not burnt, as food should be), and strange. She tried to appease her caretakers, because they all meant well and if she didn't eat one thing they'd keep offering until she'd eaten something, yet they never offered a fresh rabbit, crisped with fire.

When she had her strength back... Maleficent allowed herself to daydream about the taste of fresh blood and scorched flesh, someday.

"There's aspirin on the coffee table if your head hurts," he- the boy- Henry said.

He was speaking to her, because aspirin wouldn't have helped him in his video game. She knew what aspirin was, and the implanted knowledge meant she knew that it was in the little plastic bottle with the screw off lid. She was also never going to get that open, because her fingers still didn't clench right.

"Thank you," she replied, staring at the bottle before lifting her eyes to his game. "Why don't you cast that ice spell? It worked well before."

"I'm out of mana," Henry said, directing his tiny avatar in a quick circle around the myriad threatening creatures. "It has to recharge."

Waiting to recharge was indeed frustrating, so she watched, and eventually he did use the ice spell she'd seen before. It was a nice spell, not right, of course, because it would never flow outward so neatly, but it was a reasonable rendition of magic.

The game stopped, and the word 'paused' flashed on the screen. She stared from that to Henry, confused. "You haven't achieved victory."

"You didn't take your aspirin."

She sighed, why did he have to be Regina's son? "I believe opening the container is beyond my abilities at the moment."

"They're supposed to be child-proof," Henry said, picking it up and twisting the cap off. "Not dragon-proof."

"I don't know how many delicate things you've tried to accomplish with claws like daggers, but I hope you'll believe me when I tell you that it is a difficult thing."

He handed her two little white aspirin, and held up a glass of water, again with a straw, because still no one counted on her to be able to hold anything. "Granny says you can take two now, but you'll have to wait until supper to have any more, and if your head still hurts then, you should tell my mom."

Taking the water he offered her, she swallowed the two bitter little pills and most of the water. Henry returned the glass back to the table and watched her, curious, but not pushing. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you."

"I'm Henry."

"So I'm told."

He smirked, and Maleficent wasn't sure whom he reminded her more of, the saviour or her little queen. "My moms were really worried about you. I'm glad you're getting better."

Getting better was certainly relative, but if they trusted her to be alone with a child, she must have been stronger. She was herself again, much weaker than she cared to admit, but no longer having to struggle so fiercely against the intrusive curse. Her senses were even starting to return. She knew there was the flesh of a steer in the kitchen, and it almost smelt good. It would be overdone, of course, because they cooked everything far too long, but they meant well.

Satisfied that she didn't need anything more from him, Henry returned to his game, and because she had nothing else to occupy her mind, she watched as he decimated all the creatures that blocked his way. It seemed pleasant enough to continue the slaughter of different ranks of villains, all intent on destroying him. He seemed happy. 

"Mom's getting home at five. She's trying to stay at the office for the whole day and get back to 'normal'.  Mama keeps making fun of her, because it's not like she needs to sit in her office to make the town run, it runs just fine, but she thinks she needs to, so we're not allowed to make her feel bad for it." He paused several times as he spoke, distracted by the brightly coloured mayhem on the screen.

Regina would be the first one, the one who felt she had a duty to be in her office, even unnecessarily, because she'd always been so driven.

"And Emma?" Mal asked, waiting for an answer until Henry finished killing the larger, obviously more difficult monster.

"She's doing sheriff stuff," he answered, full of pride from his victory as the creature exploded into a mass of riches on the screen. "She said something keeps getting into people's kitchens, making a mess. Might be raccoons or rats or something."

Mal chuckled, and he turned to look at her, startled by the sound. "Your sheriff hunts rats?"

"Well yeah, sometimes, we don't really have a designated rat catcher or anything like that. Sometimes David, my grandfather, or Ruby helps, because she has werewolf senses and they're really useful, but today it's Mama- Emma."

"I realised." Mal smiled to herself, and the back of his head, because picturing Regina on a rat hunt was an adorable thought. She watched his little avatar run up a fictional snow covered mountain and thought of her home, far away in another land. The house Regina had magicked into existence for her was pleasant enough, and she liked the location, and again, the fake memories insisted that it was her home. It was certainly as lonely as her castle had been, and as quiet. Her child had been to neither of them, so what did it matter where she lived?

Henry returned to his camp, judging by the change from antagonists everywhere to the quiet. He set down the controller and stretched, before he turned around and looked at her, as if searching for something. He looked down at his hands, just like his mother, before he met her eyes. "I'm sorry that your child is missing, and my mom's, but they'll find her. They're really good at finding people, stopping curses, making things better."

His genuine concern for her emotional state was touching, and he reminded her so much of her little, naive queen who'd been so determined to get her revenge that she'd stood up to a dragon. He had the same kind of bravery. 

"I'll live," she replied, letting her eyes shut, because being awake for any amount of time was tiring, especially if anyone wanted her to think.

He nodded and turned back to his game. She listened instead of watching, focusing on the music instead of the sounds of death and destruction. She must have fallen asleep again because he was in another world when she looked, somewhere with water fountains and paths in the sky instead of snow.

"What was her name?" he asked, letting the question float, as if it did not need to be answered, but could drift away, if it was too painful.

Mal bit back her sigh, and kept her eyes shut, least they betray her. He deserved to know, she was his sister. "Lily, her name is Lily." 

* * *

 

  
Drumming her fingers on her desk, Regina checked her phone again for messages and found it blank, still. Blank was good, but she'd check again in a few minutes, because she couldn't let it go. Mal was much better, and they'd had her down in the living room yesterday, and today, and she was healing. Still slept most of the time, but she was eating now and could stand, a little, if someone held her. Granny and Cruella were watching her, and Henry had only been home from school an hour. They were fine, because if they weren't, she'd know. Granny and Cruella would contact her and Emma, immediately, but that didn't make it any easier to sit at her desk and pretend everything was fine.

Everything was fine, Regina forced herself to repeat. She could make it to the end of the day, be the mayor; take care of the town. She stared at the clock on her desk and cursed the sixty-seven minutes between the moment and five o'clock. Yes, she could easily leave, go home, sit in the room with her son and Mal, watch them both be okay, which they would be until five. There was no reason for her to go home, so she should stay and do her job, let others look after her family for another sixty-six minutes.

She picked up her empty coffee mug and moved the paper one Emma had brought her at lunch into the garbage behind her desk. Thinking of Emma made her smile, and she shut her eyes. Lunch with Emma was always a bright spot in her day, and breakfast with Henry and Emma had been lovely that morning. She'd gotten up early to try and convince a very irritable patient that oatmeal wasn't really that bad and that it she had to eat it, but she hadn't made much headway until she'd told Mal how much she'd needed her well. Then she'd eaten, complained at length, but eaten.

Emma had made enough oatmeal for all of them and though it was a little lumpy, sitting with her and Henry had a kind of perfection in its mundaneness. She looked down at the clock again and berated herself for being distracted. Sixty-four minutes left, and she dragged her eyes away, perhaps she could lose herself in planning for the summer roadworks, or trying to decide what holidays they were going to celebrate because the Fourth of July really wasn't part of their culture, but everyone liked fireworks.

The knock on the door startled her away from the Blue Fairy's request that the curse breaking be considered a holiday and Regina trying to decide if she could lead those celebrations without being too sarcastic.

"Regina? Am I interrupting anything?" Snow White stood just inside of her office, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"No," Regina said, shutting the folder and bracing her hands on her desk. She'd been expecting and dreading this conversation for the last few days and tried to calm the knot of anger on Emma's behalf that already stirred in her stomach. "What can I do for you, Snow?"

Snow took a step before she started talking, "I wanted to apologise. I know it doesn't mean much, but I like to think that we're different now, and I know what it's like to be separated from your child," she stopped and managed to make eye contact, and for once, Regina didn't think of the little girl who'd ruined her life, but Emma. "I'm sorry, Regina. I'm so sorry," Snow finished.

Regina kept their eyes locked, even though her stomach ached, and it wasn't just sympathy for Emma. She was angry, not as angry as she'd been before, or could be, but she'd lost a child, and after what she'd gone through to keep Henry… She kept her tone clipped and cool: "you didn't know she was mine."

Snow shuddered, breaking their connection and staring at the floor as if she was about to be ill. "I don't know if that would have mattered to me if I had."

That rang true, and guilt mixed with the heat of Regina's anger. If she'd been different, been better, she could have helped Maleficent, been there- but that would have meant no Henry, no curse, no Emma. With great effort, she softened her tone and forced down her treacherous emotions. "Because a child of myself and a dragon, was most definitely evil, and you probably would have been more determined to use that child to protect Emma."

"Yes." Snow's tears overwhelmed her eyes, which Regina had, oddly enough, been expecting. How many times had she comforted Snow when she was a young woman, playing the kindly older sister while she relished every tear? Too many to count, but this time, Snow's misery did nothing but add to her own.

Regina folded her hands in her lap, to keep them from betraying her. "What I still don't understand about all this, is how could you possibly worry that Emma would be anything but good? If Maleficent's- _our_ child was meant for evil because of what Maleficent and I are, how could you and Charming make anything but an angel together?" She shouldn't have been sarcastic, but she was angry and old spite filled her mouth with bitterness.

Snow nodded, accepting Regina's stinging words, as if she deserved it, which really took all the joy out of it. "Charming and I found a unicorn, and I had a vision, of Emma, and she was evil. She looked right through me, ripped out my heart--"

"Hearts can be put back," Regina reminded her, her voice cold and tight. She still remembered the heat of Snow's heart in her hand, and the spreading darkness growing within it. "It couldn't just because of a vision. You wouldn't take a child from her mother because of a bad dream."

Snow shifted her weight again, profoundly lost even though Regina hadn't moved from her desk. "There was a prophecy, the Blue Fairy said that breaking the curse required two children: a saviour and a destroyer. Both would travel through the tree. 'One to darkness, one to light, two shall pass beyond magic's sight.' The first one would be the destroyer, and the second, the saviour, and we had to protect Emma, because she couldn't be the destroyer, we couldn't do that to her, she had to be good, she had to be."

Regina slowly drew herself to her feet, still resting her hands on the desk in front of her because it kept them from moving and giving away her weakness. "So you took a child you knew was that of a villain? Because evil is born that way?"

Snow shook her head. "No, it's not like that."

Regina circled the desk, cutting the space between them, and to her credit, Snow didn't step back. "Then explain it to me."

"We didn't have much time," she began. "I was pregnant, your curse was coming any day, and if I went through first, without someone else, I would have been alone with Emma as she slipped into darkness. We needed a baby," she stopped, her face filled with regret, but none of the self-loathing Regina expected. "There were peasants nearby, living in hovels. I almost took one of their children, a scrawny little thing no one wanted. She was probably exposed on the hillside for the wolves, if she even lived for long after we passed through their village. But then I heard that Maleficent was nesting in the forest, and I knew- I mean- she'd told me she was pregnant when she asked for my help and I knew it had to be her child, because she's a killer, and a monster."

Regina folded her arms over her chest, trembling with rage even as she blamed herself for not ending Snow when she'd had the chance. It was a foolish idea, because this world needed Henry, the Dark Curse and Emma, and she'd have none of the people she loved without Snow, yet she wanted to hate her as she had before. She couldn't dredge it up, no matter how hard she tried; she was more sad than angry. "Have you seen her kill?"

"Well, yes, three guards, and she did it so callously, there must have been more that she's killed."

Regina swallowed, forcing herself to keep her eyes clear and dry. She wouldn't give Snow the satisfaction, even though it would only make Snow feel worse if she cried. "I hope you realised that she didn't kill Stefan, whom she hated, or Aurora, or any of his knights, and when she came to your palace, she used the sleeping curse."

Snow met her eyes again, as stubborn and convinced of her rightness as she'd always been. "She's still a villain, and a killer."

"I shouldn't have to remind you that being a killer doesn't seem to be enough to lose your position as a hero," Regina said, watching the guilt flash across Snow's face as she thought of Cora. "So, you'd seen Maleficent kill three guards, and because of that you decided she was evil enough to lose her child?"

Snow's lip trembled, but she remained defiant.  "There was another way than killing those men."

It would have been so easy to sink back into hating her, yet, Regina couldn't. That well of stinging blackness just wasn't there anymore. "But her child was in danger, from me and the Dark Curse. She was desperate enough to go to you for help, because her child was the only thing that mattered to her. How many would you kill to protect Emma? How many have you killed, hero?" She made the words into a lash, wishing the pain as they landed could take away some of her own.

Snow took a step forward, losing her guilt, if just for a moment. "As many as it takes," she whispered, her voice nearly a growl. "You'd do the same for Henry."

Regina nodded, and almost laughed. "And you wanted to imprison me for it, forever! It may surprise you to learn, that I loved Maleficent, as much as I could love anyone after I lost Daniel, and she was my only escape from the castle I hated, and your father-"

"He wasn't cruel-" Snow interrupted. "I never understood why you hated him so, he never mistreated you."

Regina finally laughed, but it had more sobbing in it. "The first time a man touched you, it was your precious Charming, and he loved you. When your father came to my bed, he told me I was beautiful and told me not to cry, and I didn't. Never in front of him. I was stoic, and quiet, and when it hurt, he never knew. I lived with that, for years, while you grew more beautiful and he stopped taking the time to even mention that I was pretty to me before he took off my nightgown and took what he wanted." She sank back against the desk, needing its support. "Can you understand what that was like? How much I loathed him, and you, for that gilded cage? Maleficent was the first one to notice that I was stiff and cold, and terrified. She was kind and gentle with me because she wanted me to enjoy being with her. She taught me what making love was, when I'd only ever known pain and silence." She'd lost control of her tears, and her emotions, but it didn't matter, because these things had to be said. "She cared for me, as I was, not what I pretended to be, and for awhile, she took me away from the loneliness."

Snow took a step towards her, reaching out. "I wanted to be your friend. You could have told me about my father. I could have--"

Regina shook her head. "I couldn't see you as anything but a killer, and I was wrong then, because you hadn't killed anyone, yet, but even then, when I was at my worst, I never took your child from you."

Snow moved closer.  "You didn't know about her until a few days ago."

Regina wasn't sure if she wanted to hug her or reach for her blackened half-heart and crush it in her hand. "Does that make her any less mine? What was she like? What colour were her eyes? Did she cry when you lifted her from her bed? Maleficent told me that you came while she slept, that having the baby exhausted her, then you and Charming went through Ursula and Cruella, and then stole the baby when she couldn't fight back."

Snow's lips thinned into a line, and her jaw set. "And we saved Emma, and I will never feel bad for that, ever. No matter how awful it was, how awful I was, Emma is good, and she's here, and she saved us from your curse. So, no, I won't regret it."

Snow's half-heart was within her reach and she could have taken it, crushed it for being so self-righteous and sure, but she didn't. Regina stood from the desk and wiped her tears from her face. "Well, thanks to you, there's one person that Emma has yet to save, and we're going to find her. Emma and I will leave as soon as Maleficent recovers her strength. Mulan will be in charge of Storybrooke as deputy mayor in my absence and Charming can run the sheriff's station. Henry will stay with Ruby and Granny Lucas, and you're free to tell him what you wish about your past misdeeds, Emma and I haven't told him what you did."

Retreating back behind the desk, Regina grabbed her coat and her handbag. To hell with the time, she was going home, and she would have the satisfaction of seeing Snow leave her office. Everything else, she'd deal with at home, even if Cruella, Ursula, Ruby and Henry all saw her current state. She wanted to go home, because Emma would be there and tell her it would be all right and she needed that as much as oxygen.

"So that's it?" Snow asked, following her to the door with her hands in her pockets. "You and Emma are going to find the destroyer, and bring her here, another dragon-"

Regina threw up a hand and cut her off, advancing into Snow's self-righteous bubble. "We're going to find my daughter! Because she belongs here, with her family, so unless there's something else that you need to discuss?"

"No, Regina, thank you for your time," Snow said, heading for the door ahead of Regina, slightly battered, but still right, because she was always convinced that she was right.

Shaking her head, Regina sighed and stared at the floor. There was one more thing. "I don't hate you, if that's what you're thinking. Neither does Emma, not really."

Snow turned with her hand on the door. "So you're together then?"

"How did you-?"

"It's written all over Emma's face when she talks about you. We've barely seen her since she started staying with- moved in with you, and I know what falling for someone fast and hard looks like. You'll look after her," Snow finished, and let herself out, because that final thought wasn't a question.

Wanting to hate her, Regina stood in her office, alone, holding her coat, because Snow White, who'd ruined so much of her life and taken one of Regina's children, had just trusted her with Emma. She put on her coat, then fingered her car keys, letting them hang from her hand. She didn't even have words for the molten twist of emotions stirring in her stomach, and she might start crying again at any moment. She'd pull herself together in the car, and Emma would make it okay. 

* * *

 

Emma threw the black garbage bag with her samples of the problem of the day: unidentifiable giant beetles, which she had not signed up to deal with, into the trunk of her patrol car and sighed. She'd found the same hideous creatures, four or five inches long, mostly black, with big, nasty jaws that they used to eat through everything: boxes, bags-  whatever food was in. At first they thought it was mice, maybe rats, but so much food had been eaten that it would have to be a horde of rats that really wouldn't be able to hide.

Then, in one of the farmhouses on the outskirts of town, she caught up to them: flying, hungry, eating everything they could find in the pantry of the poor house, nasty beetles. It was still chill spring outside, so they were a magic thing, not a Maine thing. Which meant there wasn't much Emma could do, except document the damage, suggest everyone started keeping their food in metal footlockers for the moment, and collect specimens. She could blast them, and she'd killed at least a hundred in the backyard of the last house, but they stank when they were dead, and they travelled in a black river, where as many as she killed, more seemed to be there. They'd retreated into the deep woods, where the underbrush was thick. She wasn't wearing the right boots to go tromping after devouring beetles, whatever they were, and so far, they were only interested in food.

The diner and the other restaurants in town were going to be busy until she sorted this out, but that was okay, everyone was nice about it and kept giving her coffee while she listened to their stories. She'd had so much coffee by the last house that her fingertips were a little shaky. Regina was probably worse, because she'd been sleeping badly and making up for it with coffee all week, and she was trapped at her desk, trying to act like everything was normal.

Her phone made that laser beam sound, which was Henry's text tone, because it was his favourite, and she picked it up.

**When are you coming back? Mom came home early, upset.**

**On my way, kid.** She wrote back, wondering what had convinced Regina to leave her office before five. **Our dragon okay?**

**She's fine. Nice. Sleeps a lot. Likes it when I level up.**

**You better not be too far ahead of me.** Emma sent back and tossed her phone onto the passenger seat. They were trying to keep two of their characters around the same level, so they could go through the game together. It meant Henry had about eight other characters that he played without her, but their knight-and-wizard duo was special. It was kind of their thing.

Backing out of the driveway, Emma pulled onto the little dirt road that led to the farmhouses and thought about Regina as she drove. If Maleficent was all right, Emma could think of one big reason for Regina to leave her office early, upset, and she hit the steering wheel in frustration.

"Dammit, Mom," she said to the empty car. "Can't you just leave her alone? She's got enough going on without you making it worse." It made perfect sense, her mother would have wanted to apologise, or tell Regina her side, and she would have gone straight to the office, and there was so much more history there than Emma even knew. They'd only just started talking about the past, Regina's past with Snow's father (Emma couldn't think of him as her grandfather, not after what he'd done to Regina), and Maleficent, and it didn't speak well of life in the castle if being with a grumpy dragon had been Regina's first time feeling safe after Daniel.

She turned onto steadily larger roads, speeding up when she hit the paved ones and headed home. Her dad had the evening shift, because he needed to sleep in, so the town would be looked after. He could beetle hunt for awhile, though it seemed they attacked at night, so maybe their newest deputies would have to deal with it. They'd be fine, they'd been in Robin's little band of outlaws and were better trackers than Emma. They'd solve the beetle problem, eventually, on top of everything else. She skipped the station, leaving her Bug there for the night and took the patrol car home. They had enough, and she was sheriff, that had to come with some perks.

Parking on the street in front of Regina's house, Emma grabbed her keys, locked the car and took the bag of dead beetles from the trunk. Wrapping them up in plastic had kept most of the smell in, but even through the bag, the beetles smelt of rot, and something else too sweet, ugly. She wasn't sure what it was, but most of the experts on evil things happened to be in Regina's house at the moment, so someone would know. She sighed, found a smile, and headed in, because if Cruella and Ursula were still there (which they probably were) and Regina had talked to her mom, she'd need back up, and Emma was going to be the one that it was easy to talk to. She was going to be Regina's optimism until she had some of her own; Regina needed that.

When she opened the door, she smelt roast chicken, and realised Granny must have put it in, which was good, because Ursula could make vegetables just fine, and she did a good soup, but anything else thatlived on land was out of her limited cooking skills. Cruella usually just ordered in, but this smelt like herbs Regina would approve of. Which was good, because if the food wasn't going well, that would just add to the meltdown of the day.

Leaving the bag of beetles on the porch, so it didn't stink up the house, Emma opened the brand new front door.

"I'm home-" Emma said, realising abruptly that she'd said 'home' not 'back' as she intended. It was home now, because whenever she went to the loft she just took more stuff of hers, and the way things were going with her parents, she'd have to get most of her stuff out while they weren't there so she didn't have to talk to them, because she needed to avoid that for awhile longer. Maybe a lot longer.

"Welcome back, darling," Cruella called from the kitchen. "Did you get more wine?"

Emma kicked herself, mentally. She had picked up more wine, because Ursula and Cruella had gone through most of the good reds, and Regina liked red better, and on the off chance she needed a glass, Emma had wanted wine for her. She'd even purchased the same bottles that she'd found in the recycling, so Regina would like them.

"It's in the car," she answered, sighing. "I'll get it."

"I got it," Henry volunteered from the den. He emerged, smiling at Emma, obviously relieved that she was home. "Mom's in there with the dragon-lady," he said in a low voice.

"Wine's in the trunk," Emma said, handing him the keys. She pulled off her boots, hung up her coat in the hall closet and headed into the den. Henry had paused his level, and Emma recognised his wizard on the television set. "Level thirty-four? Don't you have homework, kid?" she muttered to herself. The lights hadn't been turned on, and the sun was setting behind the trees. Maleficent sat on the sofa, a blanket around her shoulders and another piled on her lap. She looked better than she had that morning, her eyes shone brighter and there was more pink in her lips.

"He did his homework first," Maleficent replied to Emma's question. "He assured me."

Emma smiled, because she wasn't sure Maleficent knew what homework was, but Henry had been good, which she should have suspected. Regina's blazer hung on the chair near the television, but Emma didn't see Regina until her eyes adjusted. The dark shape sharing the sofa with Maleficent was her. Regina's head was nearly in Maleficent's lap, and her legs were pulled up under one of the many blankets spread over the sofa.

"Everything okay?" Emma asked, sinking down to perch on the coffee table and lean closer to Regina. There were used tissues balled up on the table, the skin around Regina's eyes looked puffy, and Emma couldn't help picturing Regina crying on Maleficent's shoulder until she'd fallen asleep.

"She had an unpleasant encounter with Snow White," Maleficent explained, her hand protectively on Regina's shoulder.

"Sorry," Emma said before she thought.

"For your mother?" Maleficent shook her head. "Hardly your fault, dear. We don't get to chose."

"Yeah," Emma agreed. "I wish she'd leave Regina alone for awhile."

"Snow White will go to great lengths to justify her behaviour," the dragon said, sighing, and Emma's protective side stirred. "We all do."

"I think she's a bigger culprit then some," Emma said. She rested her hand on Regina's cheek, smiling down. "I'm sorry you had to go through that." Regina stirred a little, but she didn't wake. Looking back up at Maleficent, she glanced back at Henry's game. "Did she cry in front of him?"

"Tried not to," Maleficent answered, and her blue eyes softened with affection. "It has been much for her to take in. Knowing our daughter is out there, somewhere, is a fresh wound for her."

Emma heard the part she didn't say, that missing their daughter was an older, deeper wound for her. She put her other hand on Maleficent's knee for support without thinking about it.

Maleficent tilted her head towards the sound of the door opening as Henry returned. "He's a good kid, definitely her son. The way he sees people is so much like her."

Emma's smile grew, oddly proud that Regina hadn't hid her emotions from Henry. "Yeah, I suppose they do have that in common." Leaning down, she kissed Regina's forehead to wake her. "Hey," she whispered.

Regina's eyes opened slowly, but when she saw Emma, she sat up, reaching for her so quickly that Emma almost lost her balance between the coffee table and the sofa.

"Missed you too," Emma said, holding Regina tight while Maleficent looked on, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Emma--"

"Rough day?"

Regina nodded into Emma's shoulder, running her hands over Emma's back until she dug her fingers in. Emma didn't ask, because Regina would tell her when she was ready, and it seemed like she'd talked enough about terrible things for one day.

"I chased beetles all day," Emma said, talking about nothing so Regina could relax and think about something else. "Some kind of nasty, black, eat-everything-in-the-house beetles, that came out of the woods and got into the pantries of a bunch of the farmhouses. So I've been tracking beetles through the mud. Brought some home."

"How lovely," Regina answered, her reply muffled by Emma's shoulder.

"They're dead," Emma said, because somehow that made it better.

"You brought me dead beetles?" Regina broke their hug and looked at Emma, half-horrified, half-amused.

"I thought someone here would know what they were," Emma answered, squeezing Regina's arms and trying to chase up a smile. "Your house is kind of full of magical experts at the moment."

"About the size of your palm, murky black, and they stink like rotten flesh?" Maleficent asked, shifting so the blanket was a little tighter around her shoulders.

"See?" Emma tilted her head towards the dragon-lady. "She knows."

"Lurco perennis," Maleficent said, frowning. "Forever-eaters. They eat themselves to death and then those still living devour their dead kin. Charming creatures."

Emma looked from Regina to Maleficent, her hands still in Regina's lap. She ignored the reference to the awful beetles by her father's nickname, because at the moment, her parents had earned the comparison. "Are they dangerous?"

Maleficent struggled to sit up away from the back of the sofa, trying to find the strength to hold herself up on her own. "Only if they run out of food."

"Okay," Emma said, patting Regina's thighs before she took her hands reluctantly back. "How do we get rid of them?"

"Wait for them to run out of food and eat each other," Maleficent said, she took a slow breath, then forced herself to the edge of the sofa. "Burn their nest, if you can find it."

"Mal-" Regina warned, putting her arm around Maleficent's back. "Be careful. They're just beetles, Emma and I can stop them."

"They're not just beetles," Maleficent said, frowning. She started to force herself to her feet, and Emma and Regina rushed to their feet to support her, trying to help keep her balanced on her feet if she made it that far. Which, after an impressive effort, she did. Standing drained the blood from her face, and she definitely had to fight to remain upright, even with Emma and Regina's shoulders to cling to. "They're related to blood scarabs. They're cursed creatures."

Emma's confusion must have frustrated her, and Maleficent sighed.

"Cursed creatures have to be conjured into being by a powerful sorcerer," Regina explained, sharing a concerned look with Maleficent. "They don't just appear, someone has to use magic to bring them into existence."

"And it's a complicated, difficult spell to invoke," Maleficent said, taking one step towards the kitchen. She swayed on her feet, because she was pushing herself, which officially made her just as bad as Regina. What was so hard about reasonable limits when you were getting over an illness? Or recovering from being tortured?

"Be careful," Emma said, in case either of them decided to listen to her. "I don't think I can magic you better if you fall and give yourself a concussion."

"You can," Maleficent insisted, unfazed by the thought, or too stubborn to care. "Standing up is far from complicated."

"Actually," Regina corrected, "it's one of the harder things we do, considering how hard it is to balance on two legs."

"I'd shift and use four if I could." Smirking, Maleficent turned to put both hands on Regina's shoulders. Emma watched, because Regina was so small next to the dragon-lady, and there was something precious about the way she stared her down with absolute authority. "I know I frightened you both, and I'm sorry. I know I'm pushing myself harder than you would like, and yes, these creatures aren't dangerous, but whatever brought them here is."

"And if you two intend to leave the warrior princess in charge and go find the baby," Ursula interrupted from the door to the kitchen, "we need Mal."

"But healthy," Emma insisted. Granny and Ursula were behind Cruella, listening in, and even Henry was in the other doorway. "Regina and I can't leave if you're just going to get sick again."

"She's correct," Cruella pointed out, wine in hand. "Ursula and I can't heal the way these two do. They're not leaving until you can stand up on your own, darling."

Maleficent didn't even try to protest that, because she needed both her arms on Regina just to maintain her balance. She still glared, and Emma tried to bury her smile, because the whole thing was kind of endearing. Here she was, having an argument with four classic Disney villains and a werewolf about how to keep their town safe and rescue a dragon princess at the same time.

"Fine," Maleficent finally agreed, and she reluctantly allowed Regina and Emma to lead her into the dining room. "But I want to see the dead beetles you brought back, Emma."

"They're on the porch in a garbage bag," Emma said, backing towards the dining room so Maleficent could use her for balance on the way to the table. "They stink, so maybe we don't want them in the house before dinner."

"I'll get them," Henry offered from the hallway. "I still have my shoes on."

"Just cast a--" Maleficent started, and Ursula waved her hand. Some kind of mist filled the air for a moment, then vanished.

"Done," Ursula said, pouring Regina and Emma glasses of wine. "You won't be able to smell them"

"Can you teach me that?" Emma asked. "That would be really helpful."

"It's a basic control of fog spell, scent is usually carried by droplets in the air, I'm sure you can pick it up in no time." Ursula explained as she handed over the wine. Regina still hovered over Maleficent's chair, but Emma sat and took the wine, because it was going to be a long evening.

Granny put a large baking tray on the table in front of Maleficent. "To keep the beetles off of the table," she said, nodding to Regina.

Henry returned with the bag, wrinkling his nose at the stench of it until he got into the dining room and it vanished. "That's cool," he said, looking at all of them. "You made it not stink."

"Useful spell when you're on a pirate ship," Ursula joked. She started to pour a glass of wine for Henry too and Emma caught her eye and shook her head.

"He's too young," Emma mouthed, because Regina would certainly have a fit if the sea witch gave Henry wine. Ursula seemed mystified by that, but headed back into the kitchen for a soda for Henry.

Maleficent had to rest both of her arms on the table to keep herself sitting up straight, but determined to examine the beetles, she nodded to Regina to open the bag.

Regina frowned in disgust as she poured several beetle corpses onto the baking tray. Their black shells shone dully and their spindly legs pointed in all directions, broken by their time in the bag. Their jaws were just as huge, serrated and ugly.

Emma took a large sip of her wine and the warmth of it in her throat comforted her. "There were hundreds of them," she said.

"Forever-eaters," Maleficent repeated, frowning at the beetles. "Cruella, could you please?"

Cruella leaned over Maleficent's shoulder and breathed on one of the dead beetles, a cloud of green enveloped it, then it twitched. Everyone around the table, except the two of them, jumped back, including Regina, which made Emma feel a little better for her surprise. The hideous little thing drew itself up on mostly useless legs and looked up at Cruella as if waiting for instructions.

"You brought it back?" Henry asked. Regina's eyes flew to him, as she needed to protect him from seeing this kind of magic, and Emma reached for her arm to calm her.

Cruella waved a hand lazily. "Oh, not back from the dead, darling, just animated it so Mal can ask it a few questions."

"You can do that?" Henry wondered aloud before he went to Regina's side, because he too had sensed her nerves so he stopped asking questions and watched, quietly.

"Simple things are much easier to animate, there's not much going on if it doesn't have a brain," Cruella explained over the rim of her glass. "Insects aren't at all complex."

"Especially when they're part of a hive," Maleficent added, watching the beetle. Emma wasn't sure what she was intending to do, other than stare it down, which, if that magnitude of look had been directed at Emma, would have made her reveal her secrets.

Granny shifted the rolling pin in her hands, ready to squash the zombie beetle if it made a move off of the baking tray. Regina wrapped one arm around Henry and kept the other on the back of Maleficent's chair. Emma sat next to her and stared in awe at the dead beetle as it lifted its grotesque head to look at Maleficent.

The dragon-lady opened her mouth and that trick of the light where her teeth looked too sharp happened again. Ever so gently, she blew a thin tendril of fire around the not-quite-dead beetle and it twitched, then rose into the air. It turned, spinning to the left until its head pointed off into the deep forest, far from the town. It turned back, still floating in front of Maleficent as if it wanted her to be pleased with the knowledge it had communicated. Cruella inhaled green smoke from it again and it collapsed back to the baking tray, instantly motionless.

Even that tiny amount of fire called to Emma, reminding her of the power it held, of family and safety, and she caught herself staring far too long at Regina and her perfect lips before she shook herself out of it. Later, she reminded herself. She'd be with Regina later and she could ask all her questions about Cruella bringing beetles back to life and how Maleficent could use one as a nest-finding compass. Thought it was more likely that she'd forget about all of that and want to kiss Regina senseless because merely being in the presence of dragon fire was worse than tequila shots.

"They have a nest in a woods," Maleficent said, leaning forward to collect herself because whatever she'd done had taken energy that she didn't have. "Whatever summoned them didn't give them a task, so they're marauding, eating what they can find. You'll need to burn the nest to stop them. You can--"

Regina caught her shoulder. "Cruella can enchant one of them to lead us to it, tomorrow," she insisted. "You need to eat, and rest so you heal. Emma and I aren't going off into the woods in the dark to hunt down rampaging beetles. If they're not going to hurt anyone, it can wait until tomorrow."

"Granny made chicken," Ursula said, making the offer sound like a bribe. "I can even have her burn some of it for you."

Emma caught Henry grinning and shared his glee, because of course a dragon would want her meat blackened. Maybe she did it herself when she was feeling better. Thinking of fire, and roasted meat, for an instant, Emma slipped into a memory that wasn't hers: of a nest of rocks, the warmth of the bodies of dragons all around her, the whisper of scales against stone and the tantalising scent of flesh, scorched and black. In that half a moment, she remembered sisters, brothers, the sensation of her mother curled around her.

Just as quickly, it vanished, ending like a soap bubble. It wasn't her memory, it couldn't have been. Was it Maleficent's? Did she have a family once, long ago? Was it some kind of collective dragon memory that she'd remembered from the spicy scent of dragon fire? Without thinking, Emma put her hand on Maleficent's shoulder and the warmth of her skin radiated through her nightgown and robe. Maleficent looked up at her, blue eyes soft and dark with buried pain. She'd lost that warmth, that family, and been cold and alone for long years, maybe centuries. Emma couldn't tell because her perception of time was limited to a pathetic handful of years, but she shared that pain of being separated, and alone. She knew the acute misery of loneliness that couldn't fade, wouldn't dull, no matter how much time passed.

Emma's magic slipped into Maleficent like a static shock that she couldn't control, because the dragon needed her strength, and Emma had spare. It shot through them both, and Maleficent's breathing steadied immediately. Setting down her wine glass, Emma looked from her to Regina. 

"You'll need to learn to control that," Maleficent said, smiling in gratitude. "Not that I don't appreciate it."

"What did I?" Emma asked.

"You heal too easily, Emma," Regina explained. "You're all right because you have power you don't understand yet, but you need to be careful or you'll give too much." She brought her hand to Emma's and they both rested against Maleficent's shoulder. "We'll work on it."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did a little poll on tumblr and most people have shorter chapters than I do. I'm going to try for 2-3 shorter chapters a week because it works better with the way I've been editing. (some will be longer) but you'll get updates more quickly! 
> 
> So, this one's short, but you'll get another very soon!

After an entire morning of tromping through the underbrush, following a dead beetle compass, Emma stopped with relief when Regina suggested lunch. She could have hugged her, and just about did when Regina said there was root beer.

"What, no kale salad?" Emma grinned, watching Regina open the neat tupperware containers of their lunch that she’d magiced in from the refrigerator at home.

They were several hours into their hunt for the beetles’ nest and had so far turned up nothing despite some initial signs of the bugs’ passage. Those signs vanished in the woods though, and now their careful canvas was feeling increasingly fruitless. Neither woman had mentioned quitting though and it was only when Emma’s stomach started growling that Regina shook her head and suggested they stop and eat, something soft and fond in her eyes.

"It doesn't travel well," Regina answered mildly, though the quirk of her lips told Emma she was remembering the same day. She sat carefully on the damp log they were using as a bench, handing Emma a neatly wrapped bundle. "This sandwich has cheese in it so hopefully you'll find that acceptable, even if it isn't grilled." Sure enough there was cheese, in a sandwich on nice bread that had little seeds in it and was probably the kind of thing that came unsliced with an 'artisan' sticker on it and would have cost a stupid amount if Emma had had to buy it, except of course, this was Regina so the sandwich was homemade and something about that warmed that place in Emma’s heart that she increasingly accepted as belonging wholly to Regina.

This wasn’t the time for introspection though so Emma sniffed, pretending to be offended as hhe shifted, resting her back against a tree behind her. The quiet of the forest hung heavily around them, and with the clouds thick overhead even the birds were lazy. "I can eat other things," she said, opening the paper around her sandwich. She sniffed it, and grinned at Regina. "In fact, I eat whatever you put in front of me."

"That's not a compliment," Regina muttered. "If you're comparing this sandwich to the stuff you and your father eat in the sheriff's station, or what Henry has charitably described as 'cooking'..." her voice had a little of the old Madame Mayor scorn, but her smile suggested that she didn't mean any of it. It was both surprising and not that their relationship seemed to have fundamentally shifted, and yet their banter remained. The last few years, the last few days had simply added layers of meaning that only they could hear. It meant a sandwich would never be just a sandwich and Regina insulting Emma’s cooking would never truly be an insult. Especially not after...

"Hey, I can cook,” Emma insisted. “You made sure of that.” Her voice softened on the last words, trying to convey the gratitude she would always feel for those memories and that year in New York. Regina had given her so much more than just a life with Henry, she’d given Emma the foundation she needed to keep it. It hadn’t been just ‘happiness’ and a decent bank account, she’d given Emma with so many little things most people would never think of as important, but to Emma, to someone who had never had anyone care if she learned those things, knowing the right way to get different kinds of stains out of a school uniform and the best way to make lasagne had been…Regina hadn’t just paid the price of the curse, she’d given Emma a thousand precious gifts in the form of memories, big and small, of their son and the knowledge of how to be a good mother to him, knowledge that Emma knew now Regina had earned, struggled for, paid for in tears and sleepless night and terror that she was doing it all wrong and she’d given all of that to Emma. Even now, and perhaps always, it made Emma feel small, feel humbled, made her wonder how incredibly dumb she’d been to want to leave the woman who’d given so much of herself behind and go back to New York.

Even as she thought it though, Emma knew it wasn’t stupidity. It was fear.

She was still ashamed of it.

She wondered how long she’d have gone on being afraid if it hadn’t been for Maleficent’s impulsive behavior?

She wondered if it even mattered.

“Emma?” Her name called gently made her look up. Regina’s face held gentle concern and Emma had her answer. “Where did you go?” Regina asked gently.

And that was a discussion for another time, when there weren’t magic bugs trying to eat their way through town and a sick dragon on her couch and her son’s older sister out there in the world, missing. So Emma just shook her head, forcing herself to return to the here and now.

Reaching for that earlier familiarity Emma scowled. "Hey, I will have you know my dad's been making a lot of progress cooking, especially with mom so distracted with the little guy." Regina’s answer was one perfect eyebrow lifting in an expression of clear disbelief and Emma almost snorted. For a moment, both of them forgot that things with Emma's parents were a mess and it was just a conversation over lunch that could have been in Regina's office, not on a devouring beetle hunt. For a moment it was just the two of them, bantering back and forth.

It only lasted for a moment.

Carefully placing her sandwich back in its container, Regina touched Emma's shoulder carefully. "You don't have to be mad at them on my account. They're still your parents."

Emma frowned at the dirt and bright green moss beneath her feet. She turned her toe, wishing she could grind her anger into the dirt with it. "I’m not.” She said quickly, because she wasn’t. She was furious on Regina’s behalf but there was more, and the more had been goading her, twisting like a thorn in her clothes she couldn't find but pricked with each breath she took. “It would be easier if I was just pissed at them because of what they did to you,” Emma finally said, her thoughts turning inward again.

Sliding closer, Regina moved her hand to Emma's back, rubbing small circles as she leaned in. The sweet, familiar scent of her cut through the rich dampness of the forest and that made it easier, because Regina being near her made everything that much more bearable. "You've forgiven me for worse."

"But they're my parents," she insisted around a mouthful of sandwich. Whatever was with the cheese had a little bit of a bite to it and together it made a pretty fantastic sandwich, that Emma had to chew before she couldn't finish arguing. "You're-" Emma stopped because neither friend or girlfriend seemed to fit. Whatever they were to each other, it went far, far beyond such flimsy monickers. "You're," she started again, "you're Regina. You're not my parents. You don't owe me anything.” Her voice was harsh, almost defensive and Emma looked away. Regina didn’t move away though.

"What do they owe you?" Regina asked, her voice soft and patient, like the thick trees around them. Her hand continued to stroke gentle circles, slowly edging up the fabric of Emma’ shirt to touch warm skin beneath. Emma wondered if Regina was even aware she was doing it but she couldn’t bring herself to ask, afraid if she did Regina might stop. The touch helped, soothing her in a way she hadn’t realized she’d hungered for without feeling stifling or patronizing.

"Honesty," Emma answered immediately, then she sighed, because that was asking too much right? Parents lied to their kids for their own good, sometimes. Except Emma wasn’t a kid. And maybe that was the biggest problem. Her parents still saw her a child to be protected, to have others decide what was best for, but Emma’s choices had been taken away so many times, she’d spent her life struggling to find her own way, to be her own person.

“People are going to tell you who you are your whole life, sometimes you just have to punch back and say no…”

Her parents were still trying to tell her who she was, had been trying to make her into an image of a daughter they wanted, even before she was born. And they’d sacrificed another child to do it. Regina’s daughter. Her parents had hurt Regina, shattered Maleficent and done something unspeakably evil, not for Emma herself, but for their idea of Emma, because Emma couldn't be trusted to be good on her own. She'd been weighed and measured and found wanting, even before she’d taken her first breath.

Emma had spent years as a child in foster care, moving in and out of homes, clinging to the belief that her parents were out there and they wanted her, that she would have been good enough for them in all the ways she seemed never to be for the families who took her in. It was every foster child’s fantasy, she knew that, but Emma had the answer to the question ever orphan secretly asked and the brutal reality was, it was her real parents who had first deemed her ‘not enough’ and they’d done it before she could even know them.

No wonder no one else had ever thought that she was good enough to keep.

"Perfect honesty is very difficult as a parent," Regina said carefully, and the hint of regret in her voice spoke of experience. She'd lied to Henry, and Emma knew she beat herself up for it still.

“It’s not even the lie its..." Emma trailed off, trying to make sense of the emotions tangled inside her chest, crowding at her ribs until it felt like she couldn’t take a full breath. With a face she set down her sandwich, not hungry anymore. The taste of it was lost on her and it was too good to eat mechanically. "They'll never see what they did as anything other than right will they?" ?"

Her lips pressed together, and Regina's head moved closer to her shoulder, trusting in a way people usually weren't with Emma; Regina wasn't most people. "They see themselves as the centre of the story, perhaps because they always have been."

Emma wanted to pace, shout at the quiet trees above her, but Regina was so close and she wanted her to stay that there, so she glared at the ground instead, directing her anger towards her toes. "How can they be? There are hundreds of people in Storybrooke, and the story's somehow about my parents? They get what they want and everyone else just goes along for the ride. They manipulate the whole system, take your daughter, give away their own, and they get what they want?"

Regina took a slow breath, then leaned even closer, resting her head against Emma's shoulder. The intimacy of it made her warm all over, threatening to overtake the heat of her anger. Maybe it was easier because they were in the middle of the woods and no one could see them, but Regina, who had suffered, been so feared and hid from other people as much as Emma did, slipped her arm around Emma's leather jacket and held her. With her there, it was almost okay. She could forget about how knowing what her parents had done had ripped apart old wounds. She'd never been enough for anyone. She'd been too old, too attached, too closed off, too misbehaved, and she'd been wrong before she'd even been born. Somehow, even within her mother, she'd had the potential for darkness and danger. Unlike Regina, who'd been twisted by circumstances, and made her own choices which she'd lived to regret, Emma had been created wrong, and her parents had taken another child, sacrificed another child's relationship with her mother, so that Emma would be good enough.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Emma," Regina said. She took Emma's balled up fist and unwound her fingers until she could hold them. "No one, especially you, is born evil." She smiled and the shyness of the way her lips curved made Emma's eyes sting.

"But my potential was so scary that they manipulated someone else's, a baby's soul--"

Regina shook her head, squeezing Emma's fingers and pulling their entwined hands up to her chest. "Your parents believed a prophecy and made a choice--"

Emma interrupted, desperate for an explanation no one could give her. "I don't know if I would have made the same. To save Henry's life? I'd sacrifice anything, anyone, but just to keep him from darkness? I've seen darkness, and it's not something you trick your way out of. You don't trade and bribe to make it go away. You face the darkness and beat it back, like you did."

Breaking eye contact, Regina stared down, overcome for the moment. "And you, Emma. You grew up alone, so utterly alone, and now you take care of everyone. Henry, Maleficent, your brother, you protect the the whole town when no one's ever protected you."

"So do you."

"You've always protected me, you know," Regina said, looking up. She closed the distance between them, touching her lips ever so gently to Emma's cheek. She sat back, staring at Emma with the kind of complete faith that Emma didn't deserve. "From the Wraith, from Greg and Tamara, from the Chernobog. I know you might not realise it, but you're everything to me, and Henry, and if you, just as you are, isn't enough for your parents, well, then they're more stupid than I ever accused them of being."

"Regina--"

"I love you," she said, almost as startled as Emma when she said it. "I- I think, I have for awhile and I, well, I can't say it better, or with more conviction because I've never been good at loving anyone."

"Neither am I," Emma started to agree, but Regina put a finger on her lips.

"You are extraordinary, so much so that you got into my heart when I didn't think that I'd ever love anyone but Henry. When I'd given up, when I thought there was no one left no one left who’d ever understand me or forgive me for all the wrongs in my past, you still wanted to help me. Do you know what that feels like?"

Emma shook her head, but she thought she knew. Being with Regina, taking care of her, keeping her safe, reminding her that she was good, all of that took no effort, because it was true, and natural, like breathing. Somehow, Regina made looking after her sound the same way. "I just want you to be happy."

"And if I'm happy with you?"

Then what? The echoes of the dragon's mark insisted that this was the only course left. Regina was her mate, and that was why she was inevitable, right in a way no one else could ever be. Her pull was more than that, because even without magic, without the tugging deep within her soul, Emma adored her. Dragon fire had only destroyed her inhibitions and doubts, not built something that wasn't there.

"I don't--" Emma started to protest, because Regina was too good, too beautiful, too wonderful to--

"You are enough, you are more than I thought I'd ever have, more than I think I deserve, and I don't care. I'm willing to be the greediest person alive if that means I get you, and I'm so accustomed to hating myself, to punishing myself for my choices before, that I know I don't deserve you--"

How could anyone say that about her? Emma had spent her life being unwanted, unnecessary, in the wrong place with someone else's family, but not here. Regina wanted her, and Henry did, and Maleficent needed to be protected. Her heart insisted that this was family. Strange, singed around the edges, but hers, because Regina said it was.

"When I wanted to give up on my happy ending, you said you'd help me find it," Regina said, smiling gently, as if she couldn't believe what was happening either. "And you did, Emma, and if you're not ready to believe that yet, then I'll help you until you do, because you're enough, exactly enough."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find a nice place to divide this one so it's longer than I was trying for (apologies). I needed to get through these emotional scenes before I could move the plot. Next chapter in a few days, (with plot!) Huge thanks again to Race. :)

Well after sunset, Regina sat with her back against the cool porcelain tub and her bare feet on the bath mat. Steam hung in the air, and it was so warm that she only wore a strappy tank top and her pyjama bottoms. She rested her book on her lap, only half paying  attention to the same paragraph she’d been reading for the last ten minutes or so, tired enough that the words on the page weren’t really sticking in her mind.  Behind her, Mal sank low in the hot water,  her knees up against her chest and her head tipped back against the lip of Regina’s indulgently large bathtub (renovating had been a way to occupy and distract herself during one of her low points after the curse broke).

After a quiet dinner without Cruella and Ursula, who'd moved into their own home, Mal insisted that her skin was unbelievably filthy, and almost - for her anyway - begged to take a bath (meaning she was only slightly rude when demanding it).  Regina knew what it was like to be trapped like that, weakened and unable to care for yourself until your very skin seemed to crawl. She sympathized, but Mal could still barely stand up on her own, so after a brief discussion, Regina agreed to sit with her.

She still might need Emma, because eventually Mal was going to want to stand up and get out and the bottom of the tub could be slippery. It was all too easy to imagine the disaster waiting to happen if she slipped and fell and Regina wasn’t able to steady her. It would be easier just to teleport her out onto a towel and dry her off there, but then Mal would want to use her own magic and weaken herself further because she was a stubborn pain in the ass (Regina was not unaware they might have had that trait in common) and so Regina stayed to make sure she didn’t fall asleep in the hot water and  drown,  or break a leg getting out. 

Surprisingly it was peaceful in a way, the heat, the quiet, the soft sounds of Mal shifting  in the water. Regina felt some of the tension from the  last few days gradually melt off her shoulders.

"And you didn't see any signs of another nest of beetles near the one you burned?" Maleficent asked. The water sloshed gently, and Regina could picture her dragging her hand across the surface, as she'd done in the huge pool in her castle, a world away.

"We searched the area thoroughly and found nothing," Regina answered, again. Her beetle-torching adventures with Emma had been most of the dinner conversation, because Henry wanted to hear all about them doing magic together and Mal worried about the beetles enough that Regina had started to think they were the herald of something worse.  She tucked her bookmark into her book and shut it, setting it aside. "Emma and I saved a few dead beetles, so Cruella can turn another one into a compass to find the other nest, but I think we'll have to wait and see if they attack again, because it's a very large woods and we spent most of the day tromping through it and still found nothing.”

Mal made a noncommittal noise, then  shifted, water lapping softly at the sides of the tub. When she spoke again there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "At least you were together," she said, almost purring. "You two were very close when you returned."

This gentle  teasing and the subtle approval it conveyed was a new side to Maleficent and it still left Regina a bit off balance, her skin heating as she flushed at the implication in Mal’s tone. Or maybe the truth of it, she honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

"It took a great deal of fire to burn the nest and magical fire is still very stimulating for both of us." Regina said primly. She was facing away from Mal but knew Maleficent could probably tell she was blushing anyway,  her neck and shoulders bare beneath the pony tail and thin strapped tank top she wore. "You must have known that when you sent us out."

"I doubt the two of you need much encouragement to be stimulated, even without magic," Mal replied. She sounded far too pleased with herself but though Regina made a face there was something light in her chest. The warmth of Mal’s approval...even after all this time, felt good, echoes of strong arms and fierce blue eyes and lips against her skin, challenging her to become more than what she had been. 

Regina’s lips curled in a smile as she thought about another clear gaze, green instead of blue, sparking with anger and daring her to do her worst. Maybe she really did have a type.   

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, or just taking Regina’s silence for acknowledgement, Mal made a soft huff of amusement.

Regina thought about tossing something into the tub, or turning around and splashing the smug look off Mal’s face, but she was here to take care of her teasing dragon and also, Maleficent was the kind of woman who always played to win and Regina had no desire to have to clean the entire bathroom up, nor explain to Emma or Henry why the floor (and possibly the carpet in the room beyond) was soaked.  Besides, it was such a relief to see Mal able to tease that she was willing to let her win this particular verbal sparring match.  

"No, we don't," she replied, ending Mal's teasing with the truth. They never had, truly. Anger, fear, challenge, irritation, determination, care...no matter what she and Emma had ever felt for each other their emotions had always run hot.  This was just another type of passion, deeper and more lasting perhaps, but not new, even if it had changed how they came together.

“Good,” Mal sighed softly, something like longing in her voice. “That’s good.”

The silence that followed was weighted, but not uncomfortable and Regina put her book down, giving up on trying to read.

She and Emma had been together each night since the they shared the dragon fire. Mostly so exhausted that touching each other was nothing more than a way to allow themselves to sleep,  the comfort found in the presence of someone - no, not someone, of Emma - in her bed Regina had not expected at all, yet they were at ease needing each other's presence.

The practical minutia had also been easy. Emma had gradually moved most of her clothing into the space Regina cleared in her ample closet, her clothes not even coming close to filling half the space. She didn't have much, even after these few years in Storybrooke. Regina had meant to ask her what happened to the bulk of the wardrobe from New York but there always seemed to be something more important, and  New York remained a subject as likely to hurt as heal both of them.

The water whispered around Mal's skin and they sat in silence for a time until Mal spoke, breaking Regina out of her musings. "I assume you're taking precautions?"

Regina stopped playing with the pile of the thick grey bath mat and looked up, confused. "With what?"

"With Emma, dear," Mal said. Her wet hand brushed Regina's shoulder, leaving tiny drops of hot water behind. "You both have strong magic. What happened between us, well, you could do it again."

Regina turned, resting her hands on the side of the tub where Mal sat, lean form hidden up to her shoulders in a heap of herbal bubbles. Her smile was both wicked and wistful, and Regina wasn't sure which emotion to address first. She still had a host of questions about how Mal had gotten pregnant, what had happened, if Regina had done something in particular…

"Emma has an implant," Regina began, trying to soothe Mal's concerns. "I heard her speak to Snow White about it after little Neal was born."

Mal nodded, toying with the bubbles between her fingers. If she was relieved, it didn't show in her face.

"We'll discuss it, but I think it's already been taken care of," Regina promised, slightly frustrated with the interrogation, but also touched, because Mal obviously cared about her relationship with Emma, and that pleased her.

Both women were quiet for a moment, Mal apparently entranced with the play of the water through her fingers and Regina just watching her. "I wasn't thinking, when I was with you," Mal volunteered suddenly, voice lower and  softer than it had been as she leaned back against the edge of the tub. She smiled wistfully at Regina over the bubbles  then closed her eyes. "I should have been more careful, but I was so concerned with revenge that I didn't allow myself much thought for the rest of my life, and you…” Maleficent sighed the word. “You were a beautiful distraction."

Regina’s throat was suddenly tight, her eyes stinging and  she shook her head, forcing the past and everything that might have been away. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Regina grabbed the plastic cup she'd brought up from the kitchen and indicated the shampoo because they should get her hair washed before the water grew too cold for her. "Before you get too distracted reminiscing, let me wash your hair,” she managed,  trying to keep her tone  light.  The soft glance Mal gave her before moving obediently said she probably failed.

Mal turned her back towards her, leaning back so her long blonde hair fell into the water and swayed lazily beneath the surface. Regina had expected more resistance. Mal must have truly felt desperate to be clean if she wasn’t putting up at least a token fuss to try and  do it herself. Gently pouring water over Maleficent's head, Regina carefully worked her way around, making sure all of it was wet enough before she squirted shampoo into her palm.

"There are so many ways to clean here," Mal said, sighing up towards the ceiling, her eyes closing in pleasure as Regina gentle rubbed the lather into her scalp. "So many soaps and cleansers."

"It's nice, isn't it?" Regina agreed, remembering the sand she'd used to scrub her skin, and the animal tallow soap that she'd had to wash with, often harsh with lye. Even as queen, she hadn't had soap as pleasant-smelling and soft as she could walk into a supermarket here and easily obtain.

"Almost overwhelming."

Continuing to lather the shampoo against Mal's scalp and down through dark blonde tresses, Regina smiled fondly, trying to picture Maleficent, mistress of all evil, overwhelmed in the shampoo aisle. "We'll help you adjust," she promised and Mal’s lips quirked in one of her myriad mercurial smiles.

There was another lull in the conversation, Maleficent almost purring in pleasure and Regina enjoying the simple act, the soft smell of the shampoo and the silky texture under her  fingertips. The last time she had taken care of another  woman’s - girl’s really - hair had been...Regina pushed the memories away. Snow was not part of this.

"I didn't think I could get pregnant," Mal admitted after a pause. "I wasn't careful with you, because I didn't anything would happen to either of us."

Fighting to keep her face even, Regina focused  on rinsing the shampoo from Mal's silky hair, taking her time so all of it was clean and Mal wouldn't have to dunk her head under the water. "Why?"

"Dragons are famously infertile. Our lives are too long, if we conceived easily, there would be too many of us. Conceiving a child, especially with a human, was a shock I wasn't at all prepared for."

There was something so soft and sad in Mal’s voice that Regina  set down the conditioner and stroked her forehead instead, trying to soothe the worry lines. "I thought it must have been you. Something about your power," she replied softly, guilt dragging at her words and squeezing her chest.

Mal lifted her head, looking over shoulder to meet Regina's eyes. There were no accusations in her clear blue gaze, only understanding and shared regret. So many mistakes littered between them all they could do was stumble forward now,  together.  "It was you, dear,” she said gently. “Something in you was more determined than anyone I've ever met, and as it took hold of me…” she trailed off,  her expression lost.

“What,” Regina swallowed, her throat tight. “What was it like?” she managed. Maybe she had no right  to know, but Mal had been carrying her child and she’d missed it, and a part of her  longed for even the tenuous connection of shared memories.

“I realised why my mother had always warned me that it was hard to carry a child," Mal said wryly, although her lips pulled up into a fond smile. Slowly, moving with great care, she turned all the way and stared at Regina over the edge of the tub. "I was so sick at first. I didn't know what to do. It's very difficult to maintain a veneer of strength and control when your head's pounding and your stomach's forcing ash up your throat."

"You were sick more than once?" Regina had always thought it was the one time in the forest. Mal hadn't complained, and she thought if Mal was ill, she'd complain, because she wasn't the kind to bury that.

"I was sick for months," Mal admitted, looking past Regina towards the darkness outside the frosted glass bathroom window. That enigmatic smile was still in place when she looked back, but Regina could see the deep sorrow just beneath. "Magical pregnancy takes everything out of you that it can, affecting you not just physically and emotionally, but magically. My abilities spiked and faded, and spells that were easy were sometimes fiendishly difficult, and then the next week demanding spells would be too easy. Ursula and Cruella came to protect me because I was afraid. Dragon slayers earned much glory in that land and I could barely defend myself. They still haven't let me live it down that I asked for their help, of course."

Regina treasured the words even as they twisted inside her, guilt and remorse like  acid in her stomach. She wanted to insist that she would have protected Maleficent. She had been The Evil Queen by then, had the strongest, best equipped army in that region, but Regina knew better. She had been at war; her heart consumed with revenge and if Maleficent had come to her for aid, even for their child, she wasn't truly sure what she would have done. She'd needed her soldiers to hold off the threat of Snow and Charming's army, and she'd been utterly consumed by the process of casting the dark curse. Mal and a child would have been a distraction, something that took her away from her revenge.  It was all too easy to imagine that she wouldn't have taken that well. Maybe she couldn't have believed that she could have any part in the making of a child, or felt that caring for Mal and a child a weakness that she couldn't allow. She wouldn't have trusted her old self to do anything to protect anyone else, not even Maleficent.  Not even their child.

"So you hid behind the sea bitch and the dog whisperer and never told me," Regina said. She struggled to keep her tone  light. Her only anger was for her past self, not the woman in front of her. The steady blue gaze looking back at her told Regina Mal understood all too well.  "Turn back around so I can finish your hair, please,” she said, glancing away. Regina felt fragile and battered, as if there was a bruise on her heart that ached with each beat.

Instead of complying, Maleficent reached up and stroked Regina's cheek with her wet hand. "You see, dear, this you, I would have told."

The touch, the tenderness in Mal’s voice, it made the back of Regina’s eyes sting and she had to struggle not to let herself be overwhelmed. Sensing her turmoil, Mal shifted away and Regina  blinked, grasping at the familiar safety of their banter.  "I'm glad my character development pleases you," she teased, relaxing as her vision cleared and  her lung opened. And she was glad. The road behind her was littered in painful memories,  wet with her own blood and tears, but she wouldn’t change where she was now. Not anymore. Mal admitting weakness and fear wasn't something she would have done in the past either; they'd both changed. She massaged conditioner into Mal's hair, letting it slide over her fingers and  thinking of another’s blonde hair, dark and warm with water slipping between her fingers. Thinking of Emma's hair brought a soft curve to her lips, and she realised she could picture Emma here with her in the bathtub, someday, when they had more time to themselves.

"I was a coward, dear, don't blame yourself," Mal kept her eyes shut as she confessed her old secret.

"Now that's something I never saw you as," Regina replied, still working conditioner through the ends of her hair. Mal’s  words stirred that sick feeling in the pit of  her stomach again. How evil had Regina been if Maleficent, a dragon, was afraid of her?  

Mal lifted her head, and Regina nearly chastised her for moving, but the words didn’t come, the way she stared at the wall was so vulnerable that Regina kept quiet and waited for Mal to explain. "I didn't know what you'd do."

And there it was, the truth Regina had somehow known yet feared. The words pushed at her ribs, her shoulders, making her want to curl inward, ancient human instinct to protect a wound that wasn’t truly there but ached all the same.

"I might have hurt you--" Regina said for her, but Maleficent cut her off.

"No,” She said, fierce and bright, turning once more to look at Regina before softening. “No dear, not that. I never thought- you wouldn't have hurt me, I wasn't afraid of that." Regina could only sit stunned, off balance even if she no longer hurt as she had moments ago.  She was even more shocked when Mal looked away, toying with the last of the bubbles, staring at her wrinkled fingers because she couldn't meet Regina's eyes. "I feared that you'd come with me."

"What?" Regina dropped her hands to her lap, forgetting about the conditioner still on them.  

That sky blue gaze flickered up then away again and Maleficent sighed, something ancient and weary and not human in the single release of breath.

"If I had told you of our baby, and you'd left it all behind - revenge, your kingdom, everything you'd fought for - I wouldn't have been able to keep you at a safe distance. I couldn't have kept myself apart. I'd lived alone for centuries before I lost my heart to Briar Rose. I'd been independent, travelled, cared for nothing that I couldn't take with me. Then she tamed me, grounded me, made me think that there really was more to life than a handful of gems and a spellbook. And when she left me...she broke me, turned me to dust and cold and ashes.  I'd all but given up when you arrived. I was well on my way to cursing myself into oblivion before you knocked on my door." Pulling her knees up again, Mal curled into herself. "Falling for you would have been infinitely more dangerous and I was afraid, not of your darkness, dear, but my own weakness.  I was afraid of losing everything, and I knew, this time, it would be everything.” 

"I still should have looked after you," Regina insisted, trying to ignore the way her heart raced in her chest. She'd been worthy of love after all, and she knew all too well how terrifying it was to be faced with the prospect of a tenuous, insubstantial happy ending. "I should have protected our daughter." 

"I couldn't," Mal whispered, and Regina heard her voice steady. She leant her head back again, rebuilding her walls. “It wasn’t your fault Regina. None of it.”

Regina couldn’t find the words to reply to that. 

"What was she like?" She finally asked, lifting her hands to rinse Mal's hair a section at a time, which relaxed her because it was something useful she could do. The soft scent of conditioner mixed with the steam of the bubbles, returning at least a tiny sense of normalcy.

"I remember the weight of her on my chest. How she was both too light and far too heavy, and how she smelled like everything right with the world and like nothing before." Mal’s closed eyelids creased tighter shut, holding back tears. "That memory of her, is all I have."

"I got Henry when he was just weeks old. He didn't seem real, just a tiny wriggling thing but he became my whole world the very first time I held him in my arms. He's the best thing to ever happen to me." Finished rinsing Mal’s hair, Regina stroked her forehead again, wishing she could do more,  hating the feeling of helplessness that goaded her. She wanted so badly to bring this child back, to give back Maleficent's hope and repair at least some tiny part of the damage she had caused.

"He's hardly a child anymore," Mal pointed out softly, and oh Regina hated the truth in those words.  Henry had raced ahead of her, changing with time that hadn't moved for her for most of his life. She supposed it was every parent’s truth, that they felt their children grew up too fast, but she had lost so much of him because of her own mistakes. Now time moved for both of them and the anger and hurt of the past years had been laid to rest, but she still wasn't ready for how independent he was, how brave and resourceful. Even with her shortcomings as a parent, Henry was extraordinary. 

"He's not moving out just yet," Regina reminded her. She still had several years with him before he'd be fully independent and leave home. They hadn't talked about university, or what path he'd liked to take. She'd read about the options in the modern world, but Emma would be able to help him more.

Mal opened her eyes slowly, and rubbed them with the back of her hand. "Then you are fortunate."

"I know," Regina said. She touched Mal's bare shoulder, wishing she had more to offer to soothe her but there were some wounds that never healed.

Instead Regina merely stayed quiet, fingers resting on Mal’s skin, her thumb stroking a small arc on over the point of her shoulder. It was empty comfort, she knew, but it was all she had to offer.

They sat that way, neither moving or speaking, until Mal sighed and shifted, making a face at the water which must have gone cold by now.  It broke the weighted silence, bringing both women back to the present and the practical realities of their situation.

Reaching for the plug, Regina got to her knees and pulled it free. "Stay seated until the water's gone. I don't want you to fall,” she ordered, hiding a smile at Maleficent’s predictable huff.  Still she might have rolled her eyes, but she waited as the water slipped away around her.

Standing and trying not to grimace at the ache in her knees that complained of sitting on the floor too long, Regina grabbed two large fluffy towels, draping one around Mal’s shoulders as soon as the water was low enough. She kept the other one on the floor, using it to supplement the bath mat.

"I'm hardly going to break,” Mal said, irritation creeping into the words.

"You were very broken not long ago, so forgive me for being cautious," Regina chastised, tone sharper than she’d meant. The horror of seeing  Maleficent suffering and weak was still so very close and some of the fear must have shown on her face because Mal quieted and  did as she was told, standing  slowly and reaching for Regina to steady her. They took the step out of the tub with great caution, Mal's damp hands firmly on Regina’s shoulders  while Regina held Mal's waist. It seemed almost silly that something like a bath should make her so worried, but once Mal stood on the mat, Regina could suddenly breath again as the worry left her in a rush. Trying to cover just how tense she’d been she concentrated on helping Mal dry off.  

Either mindful of Regina’s wishes or just tired even from standing, Mal was still, allowing Regina to help her.  In the damp warm air of the bathroom, there was an intimacy to their closeness,  a gentle weight to the silence. Regina hadn’t been this close to Maleficent  in decades. She was still beautiful, long-limbed and slender. The curve of her ribs and the bones of her shoulder blades were too pronounced, but that would fade now she was strong enough to start eating real food again. Her skin where Regina’s fingers brushed it was as silky and she remembered it pressed against her. She remembered the taste and texture of that skin in her mouth and the way it felt fevered with want. But it was memory only.

Maleficent had been tempered by time and grief, as beautiful as ever, and Regina still cared deeply, fiercely about her, but her heart didn’t race in her chest, her cheeks remained unstained by the blush of arousal. Whatever they had been to each other, the fire of attraction had burned out long ago.  In its place was something gentler, deeper maybe, if Regina were lucky, lasting. 

Rubbing the fluffy towel across Mal's stomach, she paused, staring at the fine silver lines across her belly that she hadn't seen before. Her memories of Maleficent’s body were as vivid as ever. These weren’t part of her knowledge, they were were new.

 "They're all I have left," Mal explained, fingertips tracing the marks her pregnancy had left behind.

"We're going to find her," Regina promised, concentrating on wrapping her up in the towel.  "Emma and I will find her and bring her back. You'll see her again. We will see her again.”

Gentle fingers on her face stopped her, tipping her chin up until Regina’s eyes met that familiar blue gaze. Mal’s eyes could be as cold as glaciers or as hot as flame but in the soft warm light of the bathroom they looked like a gentle summer’s day, the exact colour of the sky a dragon had once flown beneath, bearing a young queen on her back.  Carefully, Maleficent bent her head and pressed her lips to Regina’s forehead.  

"There's my little ridiculous optimist," Mal said, and smiled.  It was weary, but  it was a smile and Regina felt herself answering in kind. Maybe she was spending too much time with those idiot Charmings, or maybe she was just learning to have faith in what she and Emma could accomplish, but Regina had to believe they would succeed. Maybe it wouldn’t be a happy ending for Maleficent and their daughter, but perhaps it could at least be a better story. 

She let the towel fall and Regina helped her get dressed. Once she had her settled in bed, Regina tucked the covers around her carefully, laying a hand against Mal’s cheek and telling her to sleep before moving quietly to pick up the mess in the bathroom. She tugged one of Emma’s oversized hoodies  on over her tank top and went downstairs to drop the towels in the laundry.

The chore was normal and comforting and Regina felt a little more like herself by the time she found the rest of her family. Henry sat on the sofa with the storybook, half-reading it next to Emma as she finished one of the levels in that game both of them were so fond of.

Emma glanced up from the game as Regina entered the room and her smile...the voice in Regina’s mind that would always sound like Cora whispered ‘weak’ and ‘foolish’ but the rest of her ignored it because Emma’s smile lit her entire face, her full attention on Regina. It was like being hugged from across the room. That smile drew her  in and it was easy, so easy to go to her and bend down, to brush a kiss to the corner of Emma’s mouth and the top of Henry’s head before settling next to Henry.  Emma returned her attention to the slaughter on the plasma screen and Regina settled back against the cushions, letting this moment of quiet take her over.

Everyone was safe; even Ursula and Cruella were starting to get settled in their new home. They'd invited all of them over for dinner and drinks next week, which meant all of them were hoping Maleficent would be up to leaving the house by then. A week was a good deadline, and Ursula wanted time to get their kitchen sorted before they tried to cook in it, and although Regina knew they were 'villains' the two of them planning their house together was oddly adorable, especially when they directed all their teasing at each other instead of her or Emma.

They still had devouring beetles to hunt down, and Henry hadn't found anything about them in the book. He hoped Maleficent would be willing to help him find more information from the books in the library, but again, that would have to wait until she was well enough to leave the house. Regina reached out, resting her arm over his  shoulders, and when he merely smiled and leaned into her, continuing his reading, she let herself close her eyes and just be, grateful for these moments that she could only silently hope lasted.

"Did you put the dragon to bed?" Emma asked, finally finished with her quest. When Regina nodded, she set down the controller and grinned at Henry. "Ready for nightmare difficulty?" 

"You wanna bet?" Henry teased, moving away and setting the book on the coffee table. "You haven't seen nightmare difficulty until I play it, with a crusader, not your silly overpowered wizard."

"You don't think wizards are overpowered when you play them," Emma said, bumping his shoulder.

Henry rolled his eyes, and yes, it did look very much like the way Regina did it. "You know your gear is ridiculous. You got lucky." 

"I think you're trying to say that I got skills," Emma joked, flopping onto the sofa next to Regina, taking up the space Henry had just left. "Maleficent all right?"

Regina nodded, and leaned in when Emma nudged her shoulder. She had every reason to be so tried, exhaustion had been their companion all week, but Regina wasn’t ready to sleep just yet. She could still picture the faded marks across Mal's belly, and part of her mind supplied that they would have formed with the growing of their baby. That was something she missed getting to see. She'd never really been that close to anyone pregnant. Snow, of course, but she'd spent most of her time trying to keep her older sister and the ghost of her mother away from Snow's baby, not talking about stretch marks and sore breasts.

"Come here," Emma said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. Regina slipped into her arms easily, curling into Emma's chest as she watched Henry carve a swathe through the creatures in his way. Emma kissed her head, then toyed with her hair in a way that made worrying about Mal's loneliness less painful. Maleficent was safe now, and they'd find their baby. She couldn't fix the past, but she could help Emma make sure the future had promise, for everyone, not just the ones the book deemed heroes.

"In bed by ten," Regina reminded Henry and he nodded.

"Yeah mom, I have a watch." 

Emma smirked, then kissed Regina's head again. "Come on sleepy. It doesn't seem like you're going to make it until ten. ‘Night, Henry."

He waved them both off. "Night moms. Pancakes tomorrow?"

"If you're up early enough to help," Emma said, walking Regina towards the stairs with an arm around her back.

"I remember when you two argued about what order the cereal and milk went into the bowl," Regina remembered aloud, shaking her head. "I was judgemental about your lack of parenting skills then. Now look at you."

"Playing violent video games and trusting him to manage his own bed time?" Emma shrugged. "I'm a paragon of parental responsibility."

But Regina cupped her face, bringing Emma back to look at her. “You’re a good mother, Emma Swan,” she said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Emma’s lips. She was more than that  of course, she was Emma, and her presence here had changed everything for the better, but there would be time later to tell her that, to make her believe it.   Emma didn’t say anything in return, but the shine in her eyes and the way she held Regina’s as they turned and walked up the stairs was all the response Regina needed.  They  both had their scars but Regina was truly starting to believe they could do this, whatever it was.

They had to, because doing without was no longer an option.

They checked on Maleficent on their way to bed, and she was fast asleep in the guest room. Regina ticked that off as another small victory and followed Emma into the bathroom for their evening ritual. It was a large enough master bath that both of them fit, but they'd already fallen into a routine where Emma washed her face, then flossed while Regina washed her own, because if Regina didn't keep her there, she'd try to get away without it. Emma usually finished first, and tonight she peeled off her clothes, tossed them all in the hamper, grabbed a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms to set by the bed case anyone needed them during the night, and then crawled into what was slowly becoming their bed, completely naked.

Regina smiled over her shoulder as she more carefully removed her own clothing. She hung up her bra so it would maintain its shape, then stepped out of her panties. Emma sat up, grinning as Regina circled to her side of the bed. The sheets were initially cool, but Emma's side of the bed was already warm, so she slid over and pressed their bodies together. The soft fabric slowly absorbed the heat of their bodies, and she turned over to smile at Emma in the darkness.

"Hey," Emma whispered, kissing her forehead, her nose, the corner of her mouth. "We made it through another day."

Her touch, her lips, Emma was so gentle with her, it made Regina ache, made her sigh and yearn closer, seeking the warmth of Emma’s skin against her own.  Emma’s mouth found hers, slow and gentle, then more, deeper, warm and slick and good.  Emma’s arms pulled her tighter, closer, and  Regina gave herself over to it, her palms against Emma's muscles, letting the worries that the beetles might be a threat, that Maleficent's loss would never truly heal and that she had a daughter fade into the back of her mind for the evening.

She was tired, muscles heavy and slow, but Emma’s touch made her heart quicken. Sure hands swept up and down her back, followed the curve of her ribs and eased her back, pressed her down so that warm touch could reach her breasts, her stomach, the point of her hip, the length of her thighs.  There was no real urgency to Emma’s movements. She touched Regina as if they had all the time in the world.  

In the darkened room, only the soft silver spill of moonlight slipping through the curtains, Emma’s eyes were colourless and ethereal, her expression almost unreadable, but Regina didn’t need to see her to know what she felt. Everything Emma wanted to say she put into the way she pressed her lips to Regina’s throat,  the way her hands cradled and caressed and worshipped. 

And Regina couldn’t help but return in kind, the soft weight  of Emma’s breast in her palm, the feel of a nipple hardening under her touch, the way Emma’s breathing hitched, caught; it was addictive, heady and soothing, humbling and powerful all at once.  Regina’s  hand moved lower, over the silky skin of Emma’s hip, below her navel, and there she paused. She couldn’t see them in the low light but she knew Emma’s body now, could trace the faint lines in her mind’s eye as clearly and she knew the marks below her fingers, the direction they traveled and the changing colour of the skin.  Like Maleficent’s but different, a fingerprint of another life. These were Henry’s marks and he’d left them on Emma’s body just as he daughter had left hers on Mal. The scars of motherhood Regina bore lay under her skin and she cherished these, faint stories of a time long past but forever important.

"What?" Emma asked, kissing her shoulder while she waited.

"Mal has the same marks you do."

Puzzled, Emma stroked Regina's hair, toying with it with gentle fingers. "Marks?"

"From being pregnant, I... they're beautiful," Regina finally admitted, flushing slightly in the darkness.

The sheets whispered and Emma pulled  her closer to kiss her. "They itched, a lot,” she said quietly,  her voice distant. “One of the other women gave me some lotion and it helped. I never liked them." She finished  carefully and Regina felt the tension in the body  pressed against hers.

Something twisted deep in the pit of Regina’s stomach, her own shoulders tightening as guilt swept her, that for a moment she had forgotten how much pain those memories must have held for Emma. She started to apologise but Emma dipped her head, pressing soft soft kisses on her mouth and beneath Regina’s hands hard muscle shifted, relaxed.

"It’s okay Regina. You can like them even if I don't," Emma promised her, her expression and voice soft. "Carrying a child you don't get to raise is a special kind of pain. I have an idea what she's going through, but--"

Regina traced Emma's lips with her finger. "We'll find her."

Kissing that finger, Emma caught her hand and  pulled Regina closer, nipped at her lower lip and smoothed her hand down, down, until her fingers slipped between Regina’s thighs, making  her gasp. Distracted,  Regina hadn’t realizsd how her arousal had been building. She'd been thinking of Emma, not herself, and without realising it, the warmth in her chest had sunk between her thighs. Emma's searching fingers found her slick and swollen and  hot and her hips rocked eagerly to meet that gentle touch.   

Emma steadied herself with her  other  hand, leaning close to kiss Regina, soft and quick, deep and slow,  their faces so close, they breathed the same air, gazes held as tightly as hands and Regina felt safe, so safe. They kissed again, and this time Emma sucked on her bottom lip just enough to make her moan, make her arch and twist and open her legs and oh..oh. Emma’s fingertips parted her, trailing the length of her sex and teasing her clit, never as hard as she wanted, as she needed but so good, so very good.  And then Emma shifted, pressed, those steady strong fingers inside her and Regina cried out softly, head thrown back and eyes shut tight.

Only for a moment though, because Emma kissed her and said, “Hey, look at me, please?” and how could she ever resist such a soft plea?

Emma above her was silvered and pale,  she was parted lips and eyes lost to the shadows and hair falling like a tangled curtain over her shoulder. She was beautiful, and she was Regina’s.

Regina's own hands were clumsier, already half drunk on the sensation of Emma within her, palm against her clit.  They shifted and strained, Emma trembling to hold herself so Regina could be inside her. They were hot soft skin and the slick sounds of flesh,  eager mouths and bitten lips. Regina twisted her fingers, drawing a moan from Emma’s mouth and Regina kissed her, moved again, felt that moan in her own chest. It was enough to made Regina shiver. Emma kept their eyes locked, staring at her as Regina thrust her hips into Emma's hand, wanting her deeper, harder, as her own fingers pressed into the slick dark of Emma. Green eyes fluttered closed, teeth biting her lower lip and Regina wanted more. More. Emma had more control, though, her strength, her weight, she moved inside Regina and Regina lost her rhythm, lost everything but the feeling of Emma above her, against her, in her and when Emma told her to let go and just feel, she did.   She held onto Emma’s gaze and let her magic go, felt it slip through their skin and slide into Emma as sure and deep as Emma was in her. Now it was Emma’s turn to arch, to cry out and falter, but not for long.

Their magic came together like currents, pulling them both under and away.

Orgasm snuck up on her like a slow tide, building in the back of her head and the  base of her spine until Emma's eyes in the dark were all of her world. She clung to Emma, holding her, racing towards Emma's own release while she surrendered.

Afterwards, Emma wrapped around her, warm and supple against her skin. Regina held her close, arms over Emma's. She traced meaningless patterns on Emma's arms, listening to her breathe.  Such a simple sound, and Regina found it lulling her to sleep almost every night now. Languid and sated, tonight was no exception.

Half asleep, Mal’s words suddenly drifted across her mind and Regina nuzzled Emma’s shoulder. 

"You still have that implant you told Snow about, right?" she asked, voice rough and half-slurred with sleep.

Emma wasn’t any better when she replied, words barely a whisper. "You worried?" she asked and Regina could hear the smile in her  voice. Lips brushed Regina's neck, and the sensation of safety filled her. Tired and warm and content, she didn’t resist it. She'd lost so many people she loved, but Emma somehow she trusted, somehow she knew. Emma would stay. Their story wasn’t over, but it was theirs  now. Regina had just enough faith left to trust that.

"Mal was," she replied, sinking deeper into the warmth of Emma's arms and blankets. "But it's okay."

"Yeah," Emma promised her. "Everything's going to be fine." 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to find Lily!! huge thanks again to Race, because she added some beautiful things.

Emma had learned the hard way how to be patient. It had been one of her most valuable tools as a bounty hunter. She could wait, longer than most, better than most, biding her time and collecting intel or just waiting out a perp where her more impulsive colleagues rushed in, sometimes with disastrous results. She’d seen the the price of making mistakes and learned very quickly the value of patience. People who were desperate, who'd thought they'd won, they made mistakes, and she caught them. Fuck being virtuous, patience kept you alive. It kept her eating and paying rent. It wasn’t her nature, but she’d learned.

She was having a very hard time remembering those lessons now. Because now, she and the people she cared about were the ones who were desperate. They were the ones who stood everything to lose if they made a mistake. But the longer they searched, the harder it was becoming.

It was the sheer scope of their search that was wearing on all of them. Most states didn’t keep consistent records on abandoned babies and there was no national database for abandoned infants. Information about the foster care system was almost exclusively collected at the state level and many states hadn’t bothered digitizing older records of children who even if they had been in foster care, would have aged out of the system by the time digital became the norm.

During the time frame where Regina and Maleficent's baby might have come through the portal from the other realm there could very well have been thousands of abandoned infants across the country. Emma had been digging through old newspaper archives, county and state records but she’d also reached out to her network of contacts from her bail bondsperson days, asking them to help with (what she told them, and it was mostly true) a decades old cold case of a stolen child. All that took time. Time Emma knew Regina and Mal thought they didn’t have. Even though rationally, she knew that there was no indication Mal and Regina’s daughter was in danger anywhere, the tantalizing prospect of finding her, the hope that shone in front of them was as effective a goad as fear. But none of that could make any part of the process go faster and it was several weeks before they'd amassed a fairly complete list of every newborn unclaimed in North America in the year leading up to Emma's own discovery in the woods.

It wouldn't be easy. However she'd travelled, their baby was in another place, not Maine (Emma had been able to sort the list of potential babies down until she was certain they could cross that state off the list.) Which left forty-nine other states, and the provinces of Canada, and they were only assuming that she had landed in North America because Emma had, and because to contemplate anything else was to admit that it would potentially take decades to search for her. Still, Emma knew if they couldn’t find her there, they would broaden their search even further, to Mexico, central America, wherever they had to. Pouring over the records from Maine alone had taken Emma a full week of long days, incomplete records and lying to exhausted, overwhelmed file clerks and former social workers on the phone. The only unclaimed newborn in Maine who'd matched what they were looking for, was Emma.

That had been a bad day, staring down at the piece of paper and realizing that she had been just another statistic.

She’d come back to the house early after that, unable to keep searching even though a small sliver of guilt twisted in her stomach.

But she’d walked into the mansion to find Henry playing video games in the living room, Maleficent stretched out on the couch making snarky commentary (which Henry seemed to be enjoying) and Regina in the kitchen, stirring something that smelled delicious on the stove. There was one half-finished glass of red wine on the counter and a bottle of beer next to it, still cold enough the glass hadn’t started to sweat yet. It was so simple, so incredibly domestic, and yet this is what Emma had always dreamt about in the heavy dark hours on either side of 3am when she couldn’t sleep between jobs, when she’d had too much to drink to control her thoughts but not enough to be happy, she’d dreamed this. Well, not Regina, not a character from the stories she’d read as a child, she hadn’t imagined the dragon in cotton pajamas and fuzzy socks on the couch either, sassing back and forth with her son - the little boy she’d given away now so grown up and brave - but home, family, warmth, safety...this was her dream.

This was better than her dream.

Swallowing past a suddenly tight throat Emma had stepped into the kitchen and Regina’s waiting arms. “How?” she’d managed to ask as slender arms wrapped around her.

“I could feel you,” Regina said softly, and the gentle flare of her magic against Emma’s heart underscored her words.

Small black lines and clinical words were forgotten as Emma buried her face against Regina’s shoulder and let herself come home.

* * *

 

There were other bad days, though. Regina was trying so hard to be optimistic, to smile when Maleficent needed her too, and she buried most of her grief and worry until she was alone with Emma. Those were the nights it was Emma’s turn to open her arms and hold Regina close, silently stroking sable hair or running her fingers up and down Regina’s back as she listened to the smaller woman’s ragged breathing. Regina didn’t cry, and she never said anything, but Emma knew. She had been through the system and while she would never compare her experience to Regina’s, she was a mother. It was all too easy to guess what was running through Regina’s mind as she shuddered her emotion out against Emma’s skin; that the search was futile, their baby had died, long ago, that she'd suffered through the system, that she'd been adopted by a family that didn't love her.

Only once did Regina voice some of the fears that haunted her.

It had been late enough that Emma was drifting in that dark fog between sleep and awareness when Regina’s voice, soft and so hesitant, pulled her back.

“What if she has a good life?”

To anyone else that might have seemed a strange question, but Emma could feel the tension of the slender body against hers and she knew Regina. She understood. There was always that chance - slim and fragile but there - that her little girl’s story was a happy one, that she’d found a family who loved her, grown up safe and healthy. She’d be smart of course, with Regina and Mal as parents? There was no way she wasn’t. What if she had a good life, a spouse and family, even children of her own and she was happy, never knowing that her birth parents loved her still, that they were out there looking for her because she didn’t need them.

What if Mal and Regina finding her would only bring confusion and pain?

For a long time Emma had been silent, unsure how to put into words that she knew that wasn't true.

Adoption rates were fairly high and many adoptive families were loving, good people who might not have been perfect but tried. Emma’s case was unusual. Cynically she knew that white children, especially little blonde girls, had a higher chance of being adopted and there were nights when Emma wondered if magic or Fate had somehow played a part in her growing up the way she had, if even outside of Storybrooke some larger force had ensured she would be sufficiently broken, sufficiently desperate to be good to fulfil her role as Savior....

She tried very hard not to think about that, instead pulling Regina closer and concentrating on the feeling of soft warm skin against her own, on the way their bodies fit together and the way Regina’s breasts pressed against hers as she breathed, soft and steady.

In the end Emma couldn’t answer Regina’s question. The certainty she felt, that Regina's daughter - wherever she was - had suffered as she had, had been alone like Emma, pieces of herself missing in a way that would never make sense, Emma couldn’t tell Regina that. Couldn’t bring herself to say out loud what they both knew on some level, as if speaking the words would give them the power of truth.

They had to find her, because if they didn't, Emma couldn’t finish the thought. Somewhere out there was a lost little girl who had already been alone years longer than Emma, and she deserved to meet her mothers and know how much they loved her. She deserved magic, because she was Maleficent and Regina’s daughter and it was part of her, in her heart and her blood. She was part dragon, trapped in a land where half of her couldn’t survive and Emma could only imagine the ache, the unnamed longing that must have pulled at her her entire life. That was the night Emma realized she needed to find Regina’s daughter not just for the woman in her arms, but for herself. She needed to know it was possible, that whatever she was - this title, this role - wasn’t meaningless.

In some strange way she felt she owed it to this girl - woman - she’d never met. Where Emma had found her magic and her family and a home, had come to accept and even embrace the power swirling in her blood and the soft lips pressing against her own, another little girl still lived out in the cold, alone and missing a part of herself. What the hell good was being ‘the Saviour’ if Emma couldn’t save the person who’d been condemned by her own parents.

* * *

 

Regina's home office became their research room, one table covered with all the papers Emma collected and Regina's desk equally crowded with magical supplies until it looked like something out of the Harry Potter movies, something Henry quietly delighted in, even if he was mindful of the reason.

While Maleficent was still too weak to be up and walking around for too long, Henry had a perfectly good set of legs and he became the designated go-fer, constantly back and forth between the mansion and library, and sometimes Regina’s crypt, getting books for Maleficent to look over and returning the ones she discarded.

More than once Emma walked into the living room to see Henry and Maleficent side by side on the couch, leaning over an ancient, moldy tome. Maleficent was shockingly patient with Henry, answering his questions about magic and history and pointing out passages in the book. In return he seemed to know instinctively when to be quiet and let her read or to get another book.

Somehow, Emma had no doubt there was an Operation name in the works.

Leaving the two muttering quietly at each other one afternoon she’d found Regina in the kitchen. She was still in her slacks and blouse but her feet were covered by fuzzy socks and her glasses were perched atop her head and Emma got that melty, wobbly feeling in her stomach that happened every time Regina looked relaxed. It only got worse when she wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, resting her chin on Regina’s shoulder and feeling the way she relaxed into Emma’s arms.

Emma kissed the corner of her jaw and grinned when Regina shivered.

“Is it just me, or do we have a pet dragon?” She murmured, kisses down Regina’s throat.

Regina’s hands came to rest over Emma’s and she made a soft sound of amusement. “Henry does seem enamoured with her.”

“Hmm,” Emma agreed, lips against Regina’s shoulder. She was fast losing any desire to talk about Maleficent.”

“At least she mostly walks herself.”

Emma couldn’t help it, she snorted, squeezing Regina gently in retaliation and straightening. “She’s good with him.”

In her arms, Regina stilled and Emma held her tighter.

“She was always good with children.”

* * *

 

Surprisingly, the time Maleficent and Henry spent together paid off. They discovered an ancient spell of finding for “loved ones lost.” It was old magic, crude and fueled by blood and potentially dangerous, but not - both Regina and Mal determined after poring over the text multiple times - dark. The blood had to be given willingly--

“Ew, there’s a difference?” Emma asked. The look Mal and Regina shared had her holding up her hands. “No, never mind, I don’t want to know.”

And the searchers had to have a connection to the one lost. Parents, children, siblings, spouses

“Wait, why spouses, I thought this was about blood?” Emma wondered, looking down at the ancient pages.

Regina looked away, shadows in her eyes and it was Mal who answered, her voice unusually soft. “In the time this spell was written, many marriage rites included a binding of blood or magic or both. Even standing before an herb witch and being handfasted was enough to forge the connection. Magic in our land was different, it was...more.”

It was also, unfortunately, tied to the moon and was only workable from sunset to sunrise during the new moon. Lunar magic often needed sacrifice; the old magics always did, and this spell took blood of those who loved the one who was missing. Regina and Maleficent desperately needed something to believe in, and someone to promise them that it would all be all right in the end, so Emma kept hoping, kept looking, and always said it was going to be all right.

Emma thought the stretch of waiting for the dark moon was the longest three weeks she'd ever sat through. Their resident dragon improved daily, which only made her more impatient. Regina tried to bury her own concerns deep, but she was more impatient than Maleficent and Emma used everything she had to try and make it easier. She moved in, officially, taking all of her stuff out of her parents' loft. She'd needed Regina as back up when she'd spoken to them, and talking to each other on the street was painful, yet Emma wasn't ready to heal that wound. She didn't know what she'd say, how much she'd want to gut her parents emotionally, and if she trusted herself not to break down completely. When Regina was with her, she could be civil, but anything more than that hurt too much.

Time passing slid them slowly into muddy, pale green, oddly scented, spring. Henry's classes moved into the fourth quarter of the year, and his grades were excellent, just as they'd expected. Emma had half-hoped he'd get a C or two, just to have something to work on, but his lowest were two Bs. Pretty damn good, she thought, and Regina was equally pleased. Parent-teacher conferences with the former Evil Queen had to be awkward for a school full of teachers who'd once lived in fear of her, but they'd fairly well with Emma in tow. Only their discussion with Snow had been acutely uncomfortable. Emma still hadn't found a way to bridge the gulf between them. Her parents had hurt an innocent for her, damned that baby and her mothers to a life of pain without each other, and Emma wasn't ready to forgive.

The strange consequence of strained relations with her parents was that they spent much more time socially with the “villains” than the “heroes.” Dinner with Cruella, Ursula and Maleficent happened at least twice a week, and even after Maleficent was well enough to return home, she was a frequent guest in Regina's- their- home. Emma knew what it was to be lonely, and, strangely enough, she was used to the dragon lady now. She was overdramatic, sarcastic, and self-involved, but funny, and happy to join in their movie marathons and bingewatching of cultural treasures (like the X-Files) that Regina hadn't experienced. Even though she never admitted it, Maleficent seemed to enjoy their company, and she even sought them out, which Emma found touching.

These villains were rowdy, sardonic, eccentric companions, and yes, Ursula, Cruella and Mal could drink their way through most of Regina's good wine in a night. (Regina limited such occasions to weekend nights, but after she'd spent two Saturday mornings miserably hungover, she left them to it and stuck to one or two glasses). Emma rarely drank enough to be tipsy, because they still hadn't eradicated the devouring beetles. The weather was still too cool for so many insects, and even a late snow hadn't deterred them, or diminished their numbers. They had no reason to be in Storybrooke, or to be so hungry, and as much as it pulled her in two directions, she had to keep the town safe.

With the attacks growing in frequency, they lost the time to for hunt their nests. Emma and the rest of her sheriff's department carried flamethrowers in their patrol cars, and responded when the hungry creatures amassed in a large enough swarms to be worrying. The scent of scorched wings and shells hung in the air most evenings, strange and heavy with sulfur. The moths too were cursed creatures, something that had been summoned into being by some dark magic that they had yet to find any trace of. Cruella could enchant even the smallest ants to help them trace their summoner, but those trails all ended. It was as if the beetles had simply popped into being, ready to devour everything they could find. Even with their search consuming so much of their time, Emma couldn't help being a little grateful for their bug hunts, because they kept Regina busy, gave Emma something to do, and eventually, when Mal had recovered enough, they distracted her too.

The hanging moon above them functioned as their countdown. Emma had often thought the moon was pretty, and romantic in the movies, and it was nice when it was bright enough to see by, other than that, she hadn't paid much attention to it in her life. Now it was what they all lived by, watching it wax and wane, moving them steadily closer to the right time to cast the spell. All of them, including Henry, stared up into the sky once the sun set, daring the moon to disappear faster. Watching didn't make it easier, but none of them could help it.

When the moon had finally faded to a tiny sliver in the night sky, Henry sat with Regina in the hospital as they drew as much of her blood as they dared to use for the spell. Emma took the turn with Maleficent because she couldn't be trusted to remain polite with the nurses who (for sound medical reasons) were not happy with the idea of drawing her blood when her vital signs already registered so strangely. She insisted (of course) that it was because modern medical technology hadn't been designed for one of her species, but there was no way to argue against how pale she'd become as the little blood bag filled or how it had been a good half an hour before her dizziness faded and she could sit up. Maybe it would have been better if Regina was the one who walked her out to the car with an arm firmly around her back, or had to sit with her in the living room and convince her to drink juice and eat sugary junk food (though Emma was more of an expert on the latter), but Maleficent stopped arguing when Emma insisted that this was the right way to do it, because daggers and bowls would have wasted precious blood and meant it would be easier for both of their bodies to heal.

They did end up keeping two neatly labelled packs of blood in the refrigerator for three days leading up to the new moon. When the night finally arrived, though Henry had school the next day, they let him help because they needed his optimism. The spell required little more than the mixed blood of those who loved her, their clasped hands, the non-light of the new moon and Emma's endless pages of names, dates and sites of abandonment.

As they began, Regina and Maleficent's mingled blood rose in a thin stream from the measuring cup Emma had grabbed from the kitchen. It wasn't a classy goblet, but Regina said it didn't matter, and the sturdy glass was dishwasher safe.

While fire magic, dragon's magic, made Emma's head spin and her heart pound, this spell altered the world in a different way. It made the air heavier; tasted metallic when she breathed and whatever magic this used pulsed through her, as if it fed on her blood as well. The line of enchanted blood moved across the pages as if being drawn from a pen, staying bright red even in the air. It touched each name, as if tasting it on the page, and discarded them, moving on to try the next. Emma had tried to organise the print outs in steadily increasing circles outward, and as they watched it, she kept track on a map, marking cities that they could ignore in their search. Her heart thudded in her ears, as if she'd been running, and when she looked at Henry on the sofa, he felt it too.

Emma wanted to ask Regina what was happening, but her attention was consumed by casting. She and Maleficent sat next to each other, their hands wound together, and their eyes locked on the invisible guide that drew their blood across the pages. Each page that the spell finished with was rejected, turning brown like a dead leaf and falling to the floor. The papers rustled, Henry touched Emma's arm and they stared together as the women they cared about sank deeper into some kind of trance. Sweat broke out on Regina's forehead first, covering her skin with a faint sheen just after midnight. Maleficent's own soon followed, and by the darkest hours before dawn, both of them were drenched in perspiration, as if they'd been running, or trapped in a hot room. Their spell continued, racing through the pages as the rejected names turned to dust on the floor. Henry stayed up with Emma, holding her arm just as tightly as Maleficent held Regina's, and they watched, drinking caffeinated, sugary nonsense and eating junk, because that kept them both awake.

The darkness grew weaker as dawn neared, Maleficent's and Regina's breathing had synced into an echoey panting that cut at Emma's heart. They were probably not supposed to focus for so long and who knew what it was doing to them. Sweat pooled on the table around their hands and their clothing clung to both of them as if they'd been dipped into the sea.

"Are they okay?" Henry asked, resting his head against Emma's shoulder.

"I don't know," she admitted. "They're both pretty tough."

"Mom hasn't looked that bad since you saved her from Greg Mendel," Henry said, his face grave. "And they're going to do this next month?"

Emma glanced at the softening grey sky. "They still might find something tonight," she said, hoping, and he nodded grimly. She left him to watch them and grabbed towels, blankets, sports drinks and more chocolate before she returned. She didn't know what the protocol was for recovering from all nighters in spell-induced trances, but she knew basic first aid. She'd seen people look better after running marathons.

As the sun finally rose, Mal and Regina came back to themselves, starting to breathe independently, blinking, and weakly moving sore shoulders. Emma almost expected some kind of snap as the spell ended, but it simply faded away, taking all the rejected pages and dust from the floor with it, as if it had been burned away by the sun. Maleficent shoved off of the table and cursed (at least, that's what Emma thought the words were, she'd never heard anything like them). Regina wavered in her chair and Henry caught her, holding her shoulders with a towel.

Emma followed Maleficent as she paced, learning heavily on the wall. "You can try again," Emma reminded her. "You're through almost half."

"Almost half?" Maleficent repeated, her voice hoarse and desperate. "And we can try again in a month." She slammed her fist against the wall. "Fuck."

Surprised by the very normal reaction to being really pissed off, Emma almost smiled. Punching a wall and swearing was exactly what she'd want to do. "It'll work next month. You two have time to rest up, I'll try and see if I can shorten the list--"

"I'm all right, Henry," Regina insisted, but she shivered in her chair and Emma wanted to run to her, but she wasn't sure she could trust Maleficent not to crumple against the wall, so she stood beside her, letting Henry hold his mother.

Maleficent dropped her hand heavily to Emma's shoulder and nodded, trying to appreciate Emma's optimism. "You tried."

"We'll try again, and you'll find her," Henry insisted, his arm wrapped protectively around Regina in a way that stung Emma's heart. He'd grown up so much.

"Mal-" Regina urged, her voice weak and small, and that weariness reached even Maleficent, who sighed and let Emma escort her back. "We'll find her."

Surrendering to hope, just for the moment, Maleficent nodded and bent down to kiss Regina's damp hair. "You get her to bed," she insisted, retreating to the sofa where Emma and Henry had spent most of the night.

Emma set two bottles of bright blue sports drink (Henry's favourite for after track practice) on the table in front of her, and a chocolate bar. "Drink these, eat this, the guest room's all set up or you."

Her blue eyes were too bright with tears when she met Emma's gaze, but Maleficent didn't argue. "Look after Regina, she'll push herself too hard."

Regina rolled her eyes and bit something back that Emma probably would have said in her position. Emma and Henry shifted around, so Emma could help her to her feet and on her way up the stairs. Henry brought a blanket to Maleficent on the sofa while Emma tried to make sure Regina's feet were where they were supposed to be.

"I know," Emma teased as they headed for the stairs. "You two are a great example of the pot calling the kettle black. Luckily, Henry and I have the day off and we know this incredible recipe for apple pancakes."

Regina hugged her closer, nuzzling Emma's neck. "Thank you."

"We got this," Emma promised. "You, me, Henry- and the surprisingly helpful villains club."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mal teaches Emma a few things about magic. Mal and Regina prepare to cast the spell again, and Emma and her parents work some things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to Race and Wapwani for all their support!!

Watching the moon grow the second time ground all of them like a sandstorm, taking tiny pieces so slowly that they didn't notice how raw they all were, and it seemed to wear most on Regina. Perhaps because she'd need to sacrifice a pint of blood again before she'd recovered from the using the last one for a spell, that she was trying to be strong for Emma, Maleficent and Henry, or maybe because she was more of a workaholic than Emma. As the second dark moon approached, heralding their tiny window of time where they might find the missing member of their family, the dark circles under Regina's eyes seemed permanent, no matter how much she slept.

Maleficent slept better in dragon form, and once she was well enough to be on her own, she spent whole afternoons curled up in the rare spring sunshine, like a giant, scaled cat. Henry found it fascinating, because he had Regina's intellectual (nerdy) qualities enough to find the magic behind becoming a dragon interesting, not just the idea of a dragon, as he would have a few years ago. He spent a many afternoons with Maleficent, sitting in the sun, reading old spellbooks while she dozed. Henry had become incredibly knowledgeable about spells, even though he'd never cast one and Emma noticed that Maleficent soaked up Henry's presence as much as the sunlight. He was so easily comfortable with her, so naturally unafraid and admiring, that she smiled and meant it, when he made a joke.

Regina supported the time they spent together wholeheartedly; Henry's optimism was strong enough to rub off on even the most grumpy dragon, and Maleficent's long memory filled Henry's desire to know about the world he'd come from and never seen. Besides, whatever lay behind their insect problems, Henry was safest with a living flamethrower.

Emma still avoided her parents, because the argument waiting between them hung like a cloud. It was difficult to pretend she hadn't seen them across the street, and awkward to make small talk with them in the line at Granny's for takeaway, and eventually, slowly, they settled into a routine where they didn't speak of what they'd done. They talked about little Neal, about the beetles, about the weather. Sometimes, Regina had to turn down a tentative invitation to dinner, because Emma wouldn't hear of it. So they left it, let Emma's anger simmer, perhaps it festered, but she couldn't face them, not when she saw the pain they'd caused every day.

She couldn't look at her mother and father, knowing they'd caused the doubts that kept Regina from sleeping, or that they were responsible for the misery Maleficent no longer bothered to hide from any of them. Letting go Henry voluntarily had been bad enough, but having him taken? She couldn't forgive her parents for forcing Maleficent through that. Regina tried to help; she blamed herself, as she always did, but that made it harder to forgive her parents, because Emma only had to look at Regina and the remorse all over her face before she boiled inside. Regina had no problem admitting the wrongs she'd caused others, yes, she'd get all bristly when she did it, but that made sense. She used sarcasm to defend herself, and she knew what she'd done was wrong. Her parents didn't even feel bad. They thought they were right, which meant that Emma had been so broken that somehow it was worth all of this pain to make her better.

And it wasn't. In no world was the suffering of two women she cared deeply for worth her being better. She would have happily been whatever she was meant to be, even dark and villainous, if she could have given their daughter back to Maleficent and Regina. Emma didn't have that choice, so she hated her parents, and in a deeper place, loathed herself for needing to be saved at so high a price.

Emma knew that wasn't true, couldn't be true, but it haunted her. The thought that she was weak, wanting, and on the verge of unspeakable darkness, stalked her even as she lay protection spells around the outlying houses to defend against the beetles. Maybe that was why she couldn't forgive her parents; they'd laid an old wound bare and she didn't know how to help it heal again. She'd been getting comfortable with her parents, trying to forgive them for letting her go, for having another child and treating him like the first. She didn't blame them, but she couldn't help being jealous in the most hidden part of her heart. She didn't blame little Neal; she loved him, but he was the child who was good enough on his own. Nothing had been sacrificed for him, he wasn't broken, and he was the child they kept.

Emma poured her emotions into her work; protection spells fed on positive emotions, like love and trust, and she only needed to think of Henry and Regina to make those fly from her fingertips. Burning the nests of insects away took fire, and she had enough anger at the moment to keep burning until all of the cursed insects were gone. Did self-loathing make a different kind of fire? Maybe it didn't matter, because she kept the town safe. Regina told her, over and over, that she was perfect, that she was enough, and Emma wanted to believe her. Sometimes she almost did, because Regina's heart was always in her eyes, and she loved without hesitation. Even Regina's faith couldn't chase Emma's fear.

"You could just believe her," Maleficent said, leaning against a tree while Emma searched the smoking ground for any devouring beetles that had escaped the dragonfire blast. They'd been out all afternoon, tracking and burning. Mal was usually easy company because she prefered not to speak, but she'd read Emma's mood easily enough, and been pondering something since lunch.

"What?" Emma asked, even though she knew, because Maleficent never let anything rest.

"Regina loves you, Henry loves you, instead of lashing yourself with doubts, you could just accept that," she suggested. When Emma uncovered three beetles, Maleficent incinerated them easily with a burst of flame.

"I do."

The dragon lady shook her head and crunched one of the smoking beetle shells beneath her boot. "You don't."

"I don't see why you care," Emma retorted, falling into step behind Maleficent as they continued their search through the forest.

"Now that's a lie," Mal's said, her voice light, teasing, but there was something true in it. Something Emma didn't want to face. "You know I care about what happens to you, and if you do not want to agree with that, you make Regina happy, which is something that I have a vested interest in."

"So you want me to be happy because you still care about Regina?" Emma knew she was being ridiculous, but she didn't care. She didn't care if Mal ended up blowing fire around her, because she needed to be angry.

Mal stopped, turning to face Emma. The height difference between the two of them was less pronounced then when Regina stood next to Mal, but Emma was still very aware that Mal was taller, stronger and more dangerous.

Grinning slowly, Mal toyed with the lapel of her coat because apparently villains couldn't even dress down for a bug hunt. "You are in quite a mood today, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry," Emma muttered.

"Don't be," she replied, shrugging. "Out with it."

"What?"

"You're radiating anger like a bonfire, I feel it." Mal took a step closer, cutting some of the distance between them. "I happen to have a very keen sense for these things. If you need to be angry, be furious. It's just you and me and the devouring beetles. I can take it, and they need a good scorching."

Emma thought about stepping back, but she was trapped. Retreating was a weakness she wouldn't allow herself. Mal taunted her, and she knew it. She wanted to lash out, to hate, to rage against her parents, and she'd spent so long holding it in. Her hands itched, then burned, as if she clung to poison ivy or a live wire.

Mal flicked her eyes down to Emma's hands. "See?"

Instead of the glowing white Emma's magic usually was, this time her hands shone with fire. It was still tinged pink-white, but it licked around her fingers, hungry for destruction. Emma's realisation of what she was doing broke the building magic and it popped and went out, as if dowsed. "What was I doing?"

"Being fucking pissed," Mal said, reaching for her shoulder. "You will always have traces of dragon fire within you, and while I'm profoundly grateful that you took that on, it does mean that fire will come more easily to you now, and that's not a bad thing. It can be useful."

"I've never been able to cast fireballs," Emma reminded her, or herself, she wasn't sure anymore.

"Now it seems you can," Mal said, lifting Emma's hands and studying her palms, as if she could see something there beneath the skin. "What you've learned so far, neat, orderly spells from the books Regina has given you, that's new magic, and it's planned. It's written down and collected over years. It's like a recipe book, all you need are the right components and anyone can cook. Dragon magic is much older, it's living fire, and that's unpredictable. It's not something that can be written down and understood by everyone. It brings out different things in different people, burning its way through your defences. Regina already knows anger, so it won't be that for her, but you, it seems you've never taken the time to know that part of yourself."

Emma resisted the urge to pull her hands away, because she knew Mal wouldn't let her go, and for some reason, that comforted her, because she knew she couldn't retreat. "What does that matter?"

"It means you need to stop denying that part of yourself, because if you don't let it out, it'll burn its way through," Mal said, leaning closer. Something about her smelt like a bonfire, and flames seemed to live within her blue eyes. "Just let it go. Be angry, hate your parents, hate yourself, yell at me, burn the forest down around us. Whatever you need to do."

"I don't need to," Emma resisted, and she tugged her hands, trying to get them free.

Mal held her tighter, her fingers like iron claws around Emma's wrists. "Of course not, you're the precious little saviour who's so good she can't even cast a fireball."

Living flame returned to Emma's hands, burning yellow-orange, scorching out the pale pink as the fire took over. Anger raged through her, banishing her control, flowing like lava- unstoppable- and she burned them both.

More accurately, she burned the ground they stood on, turning the underbrush to smoke and ash as the pine needles crackled. Heat blossomed all around them, but Emma didn't feel it. Mal's hands were tight around hers and the fire raged without them. Emma's anger boiled off, softening into wonder because they stood in the middle of a circle of black earth, entirely unharmed.

Mal studied her, smiling ever so slightly. Was she pleased? Proud of Emma somehow? Maleficent shook ash off her shoes and patted Emma's shoulder. "The last time I wanted revenge I burnt an entire forest to ash and bedrock. It made me feel better for awhile, but that kind of release doesn't stay with you. It takes the edge off, several things can do that, but it doesn't address the problem."

Emma's mouthed opened in surprise. "Address the problem? My parents stole your daughter-"

"Regina's daughter," Maleficent interrupted, and she was right, because thinking of Regina made the embers of rage in Emma's stomach blaze up again.

Emma stared at her, and her palms itched again. "You're not going to tell me to get over that?"

"Of course not." Her tone dropped, becoming almost a growl in her chest. "I could tear them to shreds, boil their blood, crush their bones, and I wouldn't be rid of what they've done. I've seen revenge and anger destroy someone I care about, and I'd rather not watch something similar happen to you."

Shifting her feet in the dark ash on the burnt earth, Emma kept her eyes cast downward. She took a breath and thought of Regina. However imperfect Emma was, even with everything that was wrong with her, Regina loved her. She'd said it out loud; she meant it. Even though Emma had cost Regina a relationship with her daughter, she loved her. The smallest voice insisted that maybe she wasn't as broken as she thought. "Why didn't we burn?"

"I don't burn," Mal answered as she reached to tilt Emma's eyes up to hers. "It's easy enough to extend that to others while I'm touching them."

This apparently included Emma's boots, which she was grateful for. "So you're not going to get revenge on my parents?"

Maleficent pursed her lips and then sighed, her shoulders falling wearily. "There's no point in revenge. Would their suffering please me for a moment or two? Yes, I can't say it wouldn't, but I'd rather know my daughter was safe and forget about them. Which I acknowledge is considerably easier said than done. Revenge is a cycle that ends with the misery of everyone involved. Life is precious, and there are other things I would rather spend mine engaged in."

Emma wanted to touch her, to put a calming hand on her arm, something, but she didn't, because maybe Maleficent didn't want to be touched. Maybe they didn't know each other well enough. "Beetle hunting?"

Her answering smile had a predatory glint to it. "Those at least, we can burn."

They walked in silence for a time, listening for the telltale scrabbling that gave away a beetle horde. Emma fell in step behind Maleficent, even though Emma probably knew the woods better, Mal seemed more comfortable in the front. Following her left Emma time to think. Could she only cast fire when she was angry? Was it another dragon fire thing? Could she use some other emotion?

"Do I have to be angry to cast fireballs?"

"If you have questions, Regina's a far more patient teacher of magic than I," Maleficent replied without turning around.

Emma smirked, because Regina could be patient, incredibly so, but sometimes she was also so impulsive that she made Emma feel restrained by comparison. It made Regina's gentleness all the more precious when it happened. "Humour me, I'm curious."

"Magic can come in many forms, and it will always take its cost from you. Sometimes the toll is being in a certain emotional state, or having the right spell components, many times you'll pay physically, headaches, nosebleeds, exhaustion," Mal paused and rested her hand on a tree while Emma caught up to her. "Tell me, is fire always destructive?"

"No, it's heat and cooking and keeping warm, right?"

Maleficent nodded, relatively pleased with Emma's answer. "Anger can be destructive, and you can use fire to scorch and kill, or you can use it to protect, even heal. You'll have to call on other emotions to do so."

"Like what?"

"Love, contentment, desire, all of these can turn into warmth, warmth can become fire. You'll learn, in time." Maleficent reached out and touched Emma's chin again, studying her as if she could see something that Emma didn't know was there. "You have power, and you'll learn to use it. It takes time, and mistakes. You've already survived dragon fire, so learning fireballs should be easy for someone as talented as you."

Emma met Maleficent's eyes, almost surprised by how soft and caring they were. Was this what Regina saw? Who she fell in love with so long ago?

"I'm not a good student," she admitted.

Mal released her chin, and smiled. "I'm not a teacher." She pointed her hand down the path, as regal as if she was pointing the way in a castle, not some dark, beetle infested, woods. "However, we're what we have, so we'll make do."

Returning her smile, Emma's heart lifted, taking some of the weight out of her chest. She had Regina, Henry, and their pet dragon. Maybe together they could bring their daughter back, start to repair the damage her parents had inflicted. "That's the best offer I've had in awhile."

"Thought it might be." 

* * *

 

As the dark moon approached, this time when they prepared for the spell, Maleficent went first with the bloodletting. Regina sat next to her, watching the little bag of blood fill next to Mal's arm while she joked with Henry about something from his video game. Dr. Whale had insisted both of them have an electrolyte IV, and he'd almost tried to argue them down from using their blood at all. Mal had bared her teeth and explained that if he didn't take her blood, she'd drain it herself, which would be worse and do far more damage, that he'd then have to fix. He'd given in and Mal's vital signs remained steady. She'd had a month since the last bloodletting, and she'd recovered because she had the dragon's strength to draw on.

Regina allowed herself to hope that she'd be as fortunate, but as soon as Whale took her vital signs, he frowned.

"Your blood pressure's already low, taking more's going to be hard on you," he said, tucking his stethoscope behind his neck.

Emma's cool fingers wrapped around her hand and squeezed gently, promising she'd be with her. "Can you give her more electrolytes? Maleficent's fine."

She didn't even seem dizzy as she watched them from the nearby bed. Henry sat with her, asking about some part of an old book. Mal seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood today because she had even eaten the cookies they'd given her, and usually she hated anything sweet.

"Maleficent healed remarkably quickly, considering how poor her vital signs were a month ago. However, Mayor Mills, please understand that your vital signs were healthy last month, but this time, your iron's already low, and your body temperature is elevated by several degrees. There are many reasons to run a fever, and if your immune system is trying to fight off a virus, we'll be giving it a chance to get a foothold by weakening you further. Even if everything goes perfectly, you'll be dizzy from the loss of fluids and immediately anaemic, and I'll want you on bed rest for the rest of the day. Perhaps tomorrow as well."

"I'll keep her in bed," Emma promised, holding back a smile. "I won't even let her do paperwork there."

Whale was unamused. "You'll need a full litre of fluids, iron supplements to make up for the loss of red blood cells, and to be cautious. No strenuous exercise. You'll tire easily--" He would have continued, but Regina waved him quiet.

"Just take it and get it over with," she ordered firmly enough to quiet him. "Emma will look after me."

Dr. Whale would have protested for several minutes more, but she glared enough to quiet him. One of the nurses came over to set the needle in place and start the fluid IV in her other arm. Emma brushed her forehead, then kissed just where her fingers had been. The intimacy of her lips, and the bravery of the gesture where so many people could see, made a warm knot replace the irritation in Regina's stomach. The nurse smiled, but knew better than to comment, and left them alone.

Mal had been allowed up already and Regina wanted to hate her for not even looking pale. She'd been spending time in dragon form, lazing about in the sun, growing stronger. As frustrating as it was, that made her happy, because nearly losing her had shaken Regina deeply. Mal was fine now, and she stood, smirking over Henry's head (unlike Regina, she was still much taller than him) with her hand on his shoulder.

"Moms, I'm having dinner at Belle's tonight, okay?" he asked, looking from Regina to Emma.

"Fine with me," Emma said, patting Regina's shoulder. "Your mom and I are having soup and watching TV anyway."

"That's hardly necessary," Regina insisted. She would continue to protest that she was fine, even though her left arm had already gone cold from the fluid IV, and her head had started to swim. It didn't help that she'd already been tired when she'd gotten up that morning, exhausted by lunch, and now she couldn't help but be grateful that no one expected anything of her other than not passing out, which seemed to be the limit of her abilities at the moment.

"Mal's coming too," Henry added, glancing up at Maleficent. "We were talking, and Belle couldn't believe that she can't cook."

Mal shrugged and rolled down the sleeve of her black button up shirt to cover the bandage in the crook of her arm. "I tried to explain that I can cook just fine."

"If by 'cook' you mean, burn an animal to a crisp on the outside while keeping it half-raw on the inside, then of course you can," Regina retorted, waiting for Mal's smile.

"That's how I prefer my animals. I seem to recall you being the picky one," Mal teased back. "I had to try so many times to get venison cooked to a standard that you'd actually deign to eat."

"Some of us can't stomach charcoal and blood in the same bite," Regina shot back, enjoying Mal's playful smile. At least she was well again. Regina could handle her own body protesting its mistreatment, she had always bounced back before, and this would be no different.

"Belle's promised us steak on the barbeque, which I must admit sounded too tempting to refuse," Mal finished, letting their teasing go. If Mal had let up, than Regina truly must look like hell. Maleficent leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Emma's got you."

"I know," Regina whispered, meeting Mal's eyes before she turned her attention back to Henry, who looked just as concerned..

Henry leaned down and carefully hugged her, resting his head on her shoulder for just a moment. "We'll be at Belle's if you guys need anything, like ice cream, on our way home."

Regina returned his shy smile. "We might just need that, now that you mention it."

"I thought you might," Henry replied with an all-too-knowing smile.

Emma wrapped her hands around Regina's left hand, trying to ease warmth back into her fingers. "I'll let you pick the movie, you can choose something intense and intellectual and explain it to me every time we pause it."

Squeezing Emma's fingers was harder than it should have been, and her hands and feet were so cold all of a sudden. Blood continued to snake out of her arm in the long flexible tube, and Regina shivered watching it. Emma stole her gaze, gently tilting her head up so she stared up at Emma's beautiful face, instead at of her own blood leaving her body.

"Might want something simpler," Regina said, before shutting her eyes. Why was hospital lighting always so terrible? The fluorescent lights above her head seemed to pulse in unison with the steadily growing pain behind her eyes. Magic slipped from Emma into her, chasing the cold, easing the ache in her skull, and helping slow her breath. Her eyes fluttered open, and judging by the gentle way Emma looked down at her, this healing was intentional. Emma couldn’t solve all the problems of anaemia, falling fluid levels and her exhaustion, but she could ease her symptoms. Regina glanced at the blood pressure and heart rate monitor Dr. Whale had insisted on connecting her to, and watched her own vital signs creep back towards normal.

“Not too much,” she said, stroking the back of Emma’s hand with her thumb. “Whale gets frustrated when you mix magic with his medical science.”

Emma nodded, and the flow of magic between them eased, which brought some of Regina’s headache back, but it was significantly less distracting than it had been. She climbed onto the bed beside Regina, sitting next to her with Regina’s hand in her lap. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

“It’s really not so bad,” Regina insisted, still fidgeting with Emma’s warm, comforting fingers. “I’m just a little dizzy.”

“You’re not,” Emma corrected, shaking her head. “I can feel- I don’t know what exactly, but I know your head hurts, and the balance is wrong, somehow.”

“Which it would take a great deal of energy to fix,” Regina reminded her. Easing her symptoms was one thing, convincing her body to replace her lost blood cells would take much more magic, and they needed to save their power, keep the town safe. It was bad enough that she and Mal would be so drained by casting the spell of finding again, they needed Emma to keep her strength. “I’ll take painkillers when we get back, and I might allow you to fuss over me.”

Emma kissed her forehead again, and her presence, just as much as her magic, made Regina feel better. “You might let me look after you?” she teased, gentle and patient. “What have I done to be so lucky?”

For a moment, Regina’s eyes stung, because she’d so rarely been looked after. She had nearly forgotten how to allow someone, anyone, to do it. Other than Emma and Henry, she rarely trusted, never reached out, and the last time anyone had stroked her forehead, it had been Snow, after she’d been tortured. She’d had twenty-eight years of self-reliance under the curse, and since Emma had broken it, she’d increasingly needed Emma to protect her, and Emma always did. Emma loved her enough that caring for her was something she considered a privilege; Regina knew she’d been joking, but she hadn’t trusted anyone, felt this safe, since her time with Maleficent long ago.

“Hey,” Emma whispered, noticing her sudden turmoil. “We’re okay. We’ll find her this time. Maleficent’s healed so well that she barely noticed losing her blood. It’s just you,” Emma finished, leaning over her protectively. “And I’ve got you, I promise.”

“I know you do,” Regina answered, squeezing Emma’s hand because she couldn’t move her arms enough to hold her. “I know, I’m just, well, let’s say I’m unaccustomed to relying on anyone.”

“Me too,” Emma reminded her. “I guess that’s part of why we work.”

And they did work; somehow they fit together so well that Regina couldn’t believe that she’d spent almost so much time without Emma. They were still learning how not to annoy each other in the mornings, and working through their demons, together and individually, yet their relationship had become something both of them relied on, and that made them, and Emma, all the more precious. 

* * *

 

With Emma next to her, the rest of the time before her blood was collected and the little machine beeped its mechanical victory passed quickly. Emma kept the low-key flow of magic between them, and Regina suspected that was the only reason that she had any colour in her face when Dr. Whale checked her over.

“You’ll need to return for some additional tests, when are you casting your spell?” He asked, keeping his skepticism of magic mostly out of his tone.

“Thursday night,” Emma answered, her hand firmly on the small of Regina’s back.

“Then you’ll come in Friday-“ Dr. Whale began, but Regina cut him off.

“We’ll be leaving Storybrooke immediately if we locate Maleficent’s daughter,” Regina reminded him. “I’ll come in on Friday if we don’t find her, but if we do, your tests will just have to wait until we return.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave Storybrooke weakened,” Dr. Whale argued, and she was both impressed and annoyed that he continued to insist. “If anything happens to you on the outside, Emma’s magic won’t be able to help you.”

“If it’s really bad, I’ll bring her back,” Emma promised, and her hand moved along Regina’s spine, as if she also took issue with Whale’s tone. “Besides, Regina’s already taken the rest of today, Thursday and Friday off to recuperate.”

“Well,” Dr. Whale began, defeat softening his voice. “You know my opinion of the kind of magic you’re toying with.”

“Yes, thank you,” Regina answered, turning that into a dismissal, because she was tired of resisting him, and all she wanted was to curl up next to Emma.

“I want you to return if any of your symptoms worsen,” he ordered.

Emma nodded and picked up Regina’s prescription note from the table. “She’ll be all right.” He left then, finally leaving them alone. Regina took a step closer to Emma, then rested her head on Emma’s shoulder, just for a moment while the hospital room spun around her. Every time Whale spoke, she thought of horrors: losing Henry to the cursed apple turnover, Daniel risen from the dead and not himself, and Zelena coming to take Snow White’s baby. Very little good happened in this hospital.

The familiar scent of Emma’s leather jacket, and traces of her own floral shampoo in Emma’s hair made it easier to concentrate, so she clung to that, and Emma. Emma did the little things that Regina would have struggled through on her own. She filled Regina’s prescription in the pharmacy while Regina half-dozed in the car, drove home, got Regina settled on the sofa in front of television and one of Henry’s comic book DVDs. The characters on the screen all blended together into bright colours and heroics, but it was simpler to follow that plot than something more complex.

She still fell asleep somewhere between Emma starting the film and bringing her hot chocolate and the time it took Emma to make dinner. She’d only half-drunk her hot chocolate, because Emma made it rich, and she was so tired that drinking it seemed like too much work. The giant tree and the racoon were doing something ridiculous on the screen when Emma eased her back awake for dinner.

“You have no idea what’s happening do you?” Emma asked, sitting down on the sofa next to her after she set two bowls of soup and some bread on the coffee table.

“They’re escaping,” Regina answered. She knew a prison break when she saw one, but she wasn’t entirely sure why the multicoloured, motley group of characters had been imprisoned in the first place. They had terrible manners, so it was likely that they'd violated several laws.

Emma let the film continue without their attention and Regina dropped her head to Emma’s shoulder. “How’s your head?”

“More foggy than painful,” Regina assured her. It was almost a relief to be so tired that the pain in her head, and the strange stomach cramps she’d had most of the day, didn’t matter. Still, Emma worried, and magic warmed her, rushing through from where Emma’s lips rested on her neck.

“I brought you some painkillers anyway. You might as well take them with dinner,” Emma suggested, leaning forward to grab Regina’s bowl of soup.

Emma’s infusion of magic made sitting up significantly easier, and Regina accepted the spoon and bowl. Her soup was pale gold, hot and faintly spiced. Regina recognised her own simple recipe for butternut squash soup and appreciated that Emma had gone through her recipe notes and been aware of what they had in the kitchen. Emma never took any credit for her cooking, claiming she’d learned it all from the false memories Regina had given her.

Regina didn’t think that was true, because Emma did everything in her own way, even making pancakes, but Emma was so shy about any of her domestic capabilities that they hadn’t discussed it much. Regina only managed a few bites of her bread, but she ate most of her soup, which was enough for the worry lines on Emma's forehead to fade a little.

* * *

 

Later, the dishes sat in front of them, empty and forgotten, and Regina spent the middle part of the film with her head in Emma’s lap. Emma’s gentle hands ran through her hair, stroking her scalp in a lulling, soothing motion. The film mattered so much less than Emma’s touch, so that was what Regina focused on. Mal had stroked her hair in a similar fashion, decades ago, in what felt like another lifetime, and she hadn't been able to surrender then, not fully. Maybe if she had-- Regina let that thought drift away and shut her eyes before they could do more than sting.

She didn't realise she'd fallen asleep until the knock on the front door dragged her up from the emptiness of sleep. Emma murmured something unintelligible and soothing, then her warm, soft mouth touched Regina's forehead.

"I'll get it," she said, gently slipping out from beneath Regina's head. Emma paused the dvd before she left, smiling down. “I’ll be right back.”

She did not quickly return. After Emma had been gone long enough to make her anxious, Regina opened her eyes. Starting to sit up, she immediately regretted moving; the soft fog in her head exploded into vivid white pain that flashed behind her eyes as she lifted her head. Shoving that aside, she forced herself to sit up, to get her feet beneath her. Her feet were cold, numb even through her fluffy socks. It was much cooler without Emma, and she wrapped her arms over her chest.

Voices echoed from the doorway, and she followed them, testing her fingers in case she needed to cast a fireball. Regina wasn’t sure that she had much strength for magic; she’d have to rely on Emma, and the thought that she could comforted her. In the doorway of her house, their house, Emma spoke to someone, but she'd shut the door, so the conversation took place on the steps leading up to her home. Resting her hand on the white wall, Regina made her way slowly towards the entryway. It couldn't be Henry and Mal, because they wouldn’t be back until later and they weren't expecting anyone else. She didn’t like unexpected visitors, and she liked them less when she couldn’t defend herself.

Regina rested her hand on the brass door knob for a moment, catching her balance before she recognised the raised voices outside. Emma's parents were here, late, unannounced, and whatever they'd come to say brought tension into Emma's voice that Regina immediately recognised, even through wood and glass. Pulling the door inward, she tugged it free of Emma's hand and stumbled into the argument.

"You can't just leave on some wild goose chase-" David began, ignoring Regina to stare at his daughter. "Especially when you'll both be leaving the town undefended against magic when no one understands where these beetles are coming from."

"Regina and I wouldn't have to 'leave the town undefended' if you two hadn't decided that the best way to defend me was to steal a baby,” Emma said, her voice laced with venom.

Snow tilted her head, the way she always did when she was trying to understand that something she'd done might not have been a heroic act. Regina wanted to hate both of them for the pain in Emma's eyes, but she couldn't. It wasn't only her headache and the weakness in her knees that stopped her. She could have hated them while half-dead and Regina didn’t hate them now because in their dense little brains, they'd thought they were protecting Emma. They'd taken her daughter, Mal's daughter, and sent her through hell for Emma. Regina could hate Snow and Charming for being sanctimonious, self-absorbed idiots, but she couldn't hate them for wanting to protect Emma, because she meant everything.

David reached out for Emma's hand, but she kept hers back, which ended up being fortunate because when Regina let go of the door, she wasn’t steady on her feet. All three of them seemed to speak at once, their voices overlapping in a storm of sound, and a funny sort of heat temporarily replaced the pain in her head.

She must have stumbled, because her feet moved, then Emma had her, her arm firm around Regina's back, making her stable again. The night air ran cold fingers over her skin, yet Emma was warm, and her touch meant safety. Regina wasn't sure when she'd last felt that way; not even her father had been able to protect her from Cora when she'd misbehaved as a child.

"Emma-" Snow began gently.

"What?" Emma asked, her voice breaking with rage. "I'm sick of you trying to justify yourselves. You stole a baby, and that was wrong, even evil, because she was innocent and she deserved to be with her mother. I don't know how you can look at me now and justify that, knowing what I went through out there on my own. You put her through that too, took her from her family.”

“Her family is a dragon, who killed three guards in front of us,” David said, without pity. “We had a choice to make, and we couldn't let you be the destroyer," he continued said, still without the remorse Emma was searching for. "We couldn't take the risk that you wouldn't be the one to save us."

Emma's hand caught Regina's shirt, her fingers tense and damp with sweat against Regina's stomach. "What makes me better than her? You can't just decide that someone should suffer for me because I'm your daughter--"

“Yes we can,“ Snow interrupted her, taking a step closer to her. “You're our daughter, you're more important than anyone."

Regina put her hand over Emma's against her stomach, wishing she could help, but she didn't know what to say. She'd threatened Emma when she was a baby. She would have kept Emma from her parents, stolen her, if she'd hadn't gone through the magical tree. She wanted to blame herself for that, to internalise her anger, but Regina knew that she would have given Emma a family. She wouldn’t have been with her parents, but she would have been looked after. The world outside Storybrooke hadn't given Emma that.

Had Regina’s own lost daughter had a family? Had she been loved and happy? Had she been alone, afraid, and abandoned so many times like Emma had been? Wrapping her fingers around Emma's own, Regina held her because she needed that strength. She couldn’t face those questions on her own.

“What was so wrong with me?” Emma begged, her throat so tight that her question was almost a sob. “You didn't have to sacrifice anyone to make sure Neal grows up well," Emma snapped, and her anger reverberated through Regina's chest. "You trust him."

"It's a different time," David argued, reaching for her again.

Emma shifted, keeping Regina between her and her parents like a shield.

"We were warned so we could save you, Emma.” Snow pleaded, reaching for Emma's shoulder.

She pulled back, because she didn't want to touch them. She held Regina like a lifeline, as if she were the last thing floating after a shipwreck, and perhaps that was because she worried Regina couldn't keep her own feet, but she wasn't sure who needed the other more in that moment.

"You didn't save me, you damned her,” Emma snapped over Regina’s shoulder. “I grew up without you, without a family, and so did she. She could have had her mother. I might have been stuck with my empty life, because I can't escape fate, but she could have had her mother. She deserved that.”

Snow nodded, tears shining in her eyes. Was she starting to understand? “Yes, she did.”

Emma clung to Regina’s hand so tightly that her fingers hurt. “You took her mother from her.”

“Let’s go inside,” Regina suggested, stroking Emma’s arm with her free hand.

Emma hesitated, and Regina let herself waver against her because Emma would take her in to protect her. Her head ached, and Emma's body against her was the only thing that kept her on her feet. Maybe she’d been standing long enough that her anaemia was catching up with her, because her head swam even more terribly when she thought about it.

“Emma, please,” Regina added, letting some of her weakness into her voice, and that made Emma relax, just a little. Emma took her hands, leading her carefully, gently, back into the house. Snow and David followed them in and the front door shut them all inside.

Snow and David moved faster than they did, beating them to the warm light of the kitchen. Emma guided her, keeping her steady, but moving just made the throbbing in her head worse.

In the better lighting, Snow stared, studying Regina’s face because she hadn’t noticed anything outside. “Regina, what's wrong?"

"She had to give blood earlier today," Emma explained, her hands on Regina’s hips. "She's supposed to be resting."

"I'm fine," Regina insisted, even though her lips stumbled with the words. She didn’t want to be weak in front of them.

"Of course you are," Snow said, her eyes soft with pity, perhaps it was sympathy. Regina had always thought they looked the same. “Emma, we're sorry, we didn't know," she finished.

"The only spell we've found that can find Maleficent’s daughter needs blood,” Emma said, guiding her to the island so she had something to lean on. “Her mothers’ blood, and a lot of it. Regina should be resting.”

“We’ll go,” Snow said, taking David’s arm and tugging him back towards the door. “We can talk another time.”

“Stay,” Regina insisted, resting her weight on her arms and the cold marble countertop. “End this. You took Maleficent’s- my- daughter, and you thought what you were doing was right, because you always think that you’re doing is right. Maybe it was, somehow, but, we need her back. She’s of this world, our world, and she should be here, with her mother.” The softness in her own voice as she finished almost surprised her, because it was such weakness, and she tried to avoid it.

“So we’re going to bring her back,” Emma finished for her, strong when she needed her to be. “Because I’m going to redeem what you’ve done, even if you don’t want me to.”

“That’s the good in you,” David said, looking to Snow and nodding. “That’s what we had to protect.”

She leaned next to Regina on the island, and Emma looked as worn as Regina felt. “Maybe this all plays into my destiny, and it’s fate, or maybe she’s just lost, like I was, but we can bring her home.”

“We’re not leaving you entirely unprotected either,” Regina reminded them. “You’ll have the fairies, and a dragon.” She couldn’t help enjoying the little shudder that Snow and David shared. “Cruella and Ursula can probably be counted on to defend the town, if only because it’s in their best interest to do so. They’re fairly attached to their new business venture and Maleficent knows how to persuade them to help her.”

“We won’t be gone long,” Emma promised. She couldn’t know how long they’d be away. Wherever their daughter had come through as a baby, she would have moved from there, and they’d have to count on Emma’s skills at finding people. “This is something we have to do.” Her hand ran across Regina’s shoulders, then settled on her neck. Magic flowed from Emma’s fingertips, softening her headache. She didn’t know if Snow and David could sense the magic passing between them, but having her head be partially her own again made it easier to wait for the Charmings to finally get it.

“We understand,” Snow answered, and something in her voice, and the way her shoulders straightened, suggested that she did. “Maybe you’re right. She’s one of us, and she should be here.”

“She’s the destroyer,” David reminded them, surprise etched on his face as he looked at his wife. “You don’t know what her being here will do.”

“I don’t,” Snow agreed, and she met Regina’s eyes before she stared at her daughter. “But I trust Emma. Wherever she is, this woman deserves a chance to be with her family and her own people, and if she's the destroyer, then that's a path we'll take if it comes to that. This is the hard road," she reminded her husband.

David still seemed unconvinced. "You think Maleficent will protect the town?"

"Of course she will," Emma said, shoving off the counter and pacing the small space of the kitchen as if it were a cage. "She lives here, Henry lives here, and we're the closest thing she has to family. We've all made mistakes, how can you ask us to let you atone, if you won't let her? You took her child and cursed that baby to a life of darkness, and now Maleficent's the one we trust to protect our son. You know what? It's all bullshit. You call yourselves heroes after you stole a child, but a villain raised our son and another one has spent the last few weeks trying to convince me that revenge isn't worth pursuing. Do you know how fucked up that is? Do you understand how self-righteous and awful you are for trying to keep the 'destroyer' out of this town when maybe fate meant that to be me, and she was supposed to be the one who saved us all."

Emma trembled where she stood, her eyes glowing with rage, like Maleficent's sometimes did. "I'm bringing her back, because this is her home and she should be here, with her mothers. And Maleficent's going to protect Storybrooke, because we asked her to. For Henry, and Belle, and everyone who can't protect themselves, because she understands that when you have power, you don't let innocents get hurt." Emma took a breath, then another. "She gets that. You call her villain, but she's only protected me. Even when I needed to be protected from myself. You're the ones who made this mess and you call yourselves heroes. The whole town does."

Magic crackled in the air, filling it like lightning waiting for the boom of thunder. The power of it made Regina's teeth tingle and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Emma fought with her breath, trying to steady herself, and she took Regina's shoulders, pulling her away from the counter and holding her, because she needed her. The light in the ceiling flickered, then brightened, and Regina's headache burned away. The pain sizzled off, evaporating like ice in a frying pan, because Emma had changed something. Her body ached all over, protesting whatever had just happened, and suddenly she wasn't cold, wasn't dizzy.

Emma panted, staring into Regina's eyes with confusion and desperation bright in her green ones. Regina stumbled forward, and this time her feet caught her, kept her up.

"Oh Emma," she whispered, starting to understand what had happened. Emma's head dropped to Regina's shoulder, and she sobbed once before she relaxed.

"Regina? Emma? What's happened?" Snow asked, moving towards them around the island.

"Emma used fire magic to heal me," Regina explained, still holding Emma. "Dragon magic. It's complicated, but she controlled it. Emma, that's not an easy thing."

"It was that or destroy something," Emma muttered. She rested her cheek against Regina's, then turned to face her parents, her hand still on Regina's arm. "You need to apologise to Maleficent and help her protect the town in our absence. When we get back with, you'll apologise to the woman whose life you ruined. Then, we'll talk about forgiveness."

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this took so long to get up, hopefully the next one will be faster. I'm diverging from canon quite a bit with Lily and a few other things [spoilers] that I'll explain in later chapters.
> 
> Huge thanks to Race and Wapwani for all their help and support. :)

When the dark moon finally arrived the second time, they were prepared. Mal wore her dark red pyjamas, and the top buttoned up to her elegant collarbones. Regina's were blue, and silky and it was almost funny to see her wearing them, because usually she went to bed with Emma naked. It was ridiculous really, how they both managed to look so put together, even with their hair down and makeup gone so that Emma wasn't sure she ever would, or could, look as regal as either Mal or Regina did in their pyjamas.

Henry sat with his laptop at Regina's desk, taking notes, with scanned files of the most delicate pages of the book they'd taken the spell from. He still wore jeans and a hoody but that was fine. He wasn't involved in the spell and if it was anything like the last time, he and Emma would have hours of watching Regina and Maleficent sit motionless while the spell took them away to that netherplace where they looked for Lily.

Lily. The name was almost too much. Emma's traitorous mind kept turning the name - and all the memories that came with it - over and over. Like worrying at a loose tooth or picking at a bandage it ached. She couldn't help but think of her Lily, and how she'd left her, so long ago. Maybe there was something in the name, poor lost little girls named Lily, or maybe she was just being foolish, recent events ripping open wounds that never had truly healed. Even now, decades later, the guilt was still fresh. With the eyes and experience of an adult Emma could see so clearly how much pain Lily had been in, how young and afraid they both had been.

And Emma had given in to that fear, until she'd pushed Lily away, right when the other girl had needed her most.

Maybe when this was all over she'd reach out to her contacts and start looking again. After all, if they could find one Lily, why not both? Emma wasn't the same person she'd been years ago, she'd been given a second and a third and a fourth chance.

Lily deserved the same.

Regina's hand reaching for hers scattered her thoughts and Emma squeezed her fingers, letting the warmth and strength of Regina's hand ground her. A little too warm. Emma tried not to frown but the knot in her stomach that had taken up residence since the first time she'd watched Regina go through this spell tightened. Maybe Dr. Whale had been right, and Regina had some kind of virus. Despite the warmth of her skin, even in the comfortable library, Regina had a sweater on over her pyjamas and Emma had seen her shiver earlier. This whole mess needed to be over soon. They needed to find Lily so Regina and Mal could stop exhausting themselves.

Regina's hand squeezed hers and dark eyes were knowing and gentle. Emma tried to smile in return but she knew she looked tired. They were all so damn tired. Leaning in, she kissed Regina's cheek. "You'll find her this time."

Whether she was talking to Regina or herself, Emma couldn't say.

"I hope so, I don't know if I can come up with enough blood to do this again." Regina was trying to smile but it only made the knot in Emma's stomach twist harder. They were playing with dangerous forces and it was only the knowledge that there was no way Mal or Regina would listen to her that made Emma bite her tongue and keep quiet.

"Realms in this world are far too large," Mal added, staring at the map and the cities they'd managed to cross off. "How does anyone rule a land this large?"

"It's not really one person," Emma said, hoping she could avoid an explanation of how the government worked in the outside world. "And it doesn't always work."

"If they tried in smaller realms, we wouldn't have to spend so much time looking for our daughter," Mal grumbled at the map hanging on the bookcase. She sat at the table, staring at the pile of names they still had to go through. They'd reached nearly the middle of the country now, Tennessee, Indiana, Illinois, then Wisconsin, and Minnesota. Emma had spent many years in Minnesota and it wouldn't make sense for Mal's Lily to be there, not when Emma's Lily had been. As strange as Emma's life had been, beyond the borders of Storybrooke there was no magic, and no great and powerful forces manipulating things. The Lily she had known - had hurt - had been nothing but another lost young woman who lacked a good support system and had acted out because of it. Just like Emma. Her Lily had made her own choices, just like Emma.

Regina gave Emma's hand one last reassuring squeeze, then moved to sit across from Mal at the table,, rolling her shoulders and taking a deep breath Emma now recognized as a centering exercise. Emma opened the plastic bags of blood, pouring first Regina's then Mal's into the same glass measuring cup they'd used last month. Henry wrinkled his nose at the rich metallic scent but didn't turn away, his expression far more interested than disgusted although the glances he kept throwing at Regina told Emma their son felt some of her uncertainty. Heart of the Truest Believer Henry might have had, but he had learned some very painful lessons in just how human his mothers were in the last year. Emma really really hoped this wasn't about to be another one.

Pushing her thoughts away from their dark direction, she concentrated on setting up the ritual, small help though it might be, it still made her feel slightly less useless. Emma desperately needed to not feel helpless right now.

The scent of Mal' blood had another note to it, sulfur and ash mixed in with the familiar rusty smell of human blood. Emma set the cup of blood next to the slightly smaller stack of papers.

Mal nodded to Regina, and they took each other's hands. They shut their eyes in unison, slipping into the joint trance that had let them work the spell last time. Their mingled blood sat still for a moment, then rose into the air, as it had last time, but it stopped before it touched the pages. Something was wrong and Emma felt it in the air like an electric current, or a chord gone sour.

Henry watched the blood hover in the air, not touching the paper before it broke and crashed back into the cup. It splashed, then bubbled and she and Henry shared a horrified look. Wrongness set all of Emma's senses alight, like sirens screaming in her ears. Even though they'd just sunk into the spell, sweat already coated Mal and Regina's faces, and tears ran from both of their eyelids, chasing down their cheeks. They both sat still as stone, but as their blood started to roll and boil in the cup in front of them, Regina's nose began to bleed. Fat drops of red fell to the table in front of her, and Emma jumped to put a tissue against her nose. She couldn't stop it, and what had been dripping, became a stream.

"What's happening?" Henry asked, worried, and Emma had no answer for him.

"Does the spellbook say anything about going wrong?" she asked, hoping to distract him with the pages, so he wouldn't watch Regina's nosebleed continue to worsen. Emma stole a glance at Mal, and like Regina, her nose had started to bleed. Her blood ran slower, and perhaps she was better at fighting whatever this was, but her skin was just as pale.

"It doesn't say anything about nosebleeds, but it's old. It's worded in a weird way," Henry replied, and for a moment his voice rose in pitch and he was a kid afraid for his mom again.

Emma looked from Regina to Maleficent and pulled back her hand. She slapped Mal, because her nose was bleeding less, and she was more likely to be able to break the spell. Her hand cracked across Mal's cheek, and her eyelids fluttered.

"Come on," Emma muttered, almost like a prayer. "Pull yourself out of it. Break it. I know you can do it."

"Interference!" Henry said suddenly, and he left the laptop to run to Emma and his mother. "The spell book says that some kinds of magic can interfere with the spell "

Emma couldn't think of any magic that Regina or Maleficent had been casting, unless it was the healing spell that she'd accidentally cast on Regina two days ago. She'd been so angry, and she couldn't funnel it anywhere. It had itched her hands, burned within her so hot that she'd had to use it, so she thought of Regina, and how much she loved her, and that heat had been more useful than fury. She'd healed Regina's anaemia, but that should not have carried over into this spell. Why would that matter?

Slapping Maleficent again, this time hard enough that her palm stung, Emma was finally rewarded when Mal forced her eyes open. The spell shivered around them, and the boiling of their blood stopped, as if it had never begun, but it still steamed. The discord that echoed through them, the wrongness and the way it made Emma's skin crawl stopped. Mal stumbled off of her chair, falling to the floor, shaking on hands and knees, and Regina crumpled against Emma's stomach, blood still pouring from her nose, hot as it soaked into Emma's clothing.

"Mom?" Henry yelled, his control shattering with the spell.

Emma didn't dare try to heal her, because she didn't know what was happening with the residual magic from the spell, but she held Regina close as her breathing started to return to normal. The tissues Emma held were already soaked, and she dropped them, using the hem of her shirt and stroking Regina's damp hair. "Regina?"

"Mom?" Henry repeated, this time his voice was softer. "Mal? You guys okay?"

"Yes," Regina whispered, meeting his eyes as she clung to Emma. "I'm fine."

Mal dragged herself back up to her feet, leaning heavily on the chair and wiping blood from her face onto her sleeve. "Something interfered," she said, looking up at Henry almost in apology. She panted and caught her breath. "We'll be fine, Regina's fine, she just can't cast the spell."

"What?" Regina asked, still clinging to Emma's bloodstained shirt. "Why? What are you talking about?"

"Too much magic," Mal explained, still struggling to catch her breath. Henry brought her a glass of water and she drank half of it in a rush, but blood trickled from her lips onto the rim of the glass, into the water, staining it pink. Frowning, she set it down and wiped her mouth on her already ruined sleeve. She took a moment, fighting to collect herself. "The spell's being torn in too many directions. There's too much magic."

"Too much?" Henry asked, trying to work it out now that he trusted his mom was going to be okay. "How can there be too much?"

Mal shook her head, and her long blonde hair fell heavy onto her shoulders. "It'll take too long to explain. We don't have much time. If we don't find her tonight, we'll have to cast this all over again and it still might not-" she broke off, looking at Regina. Her worry softened just for a moment, and she dragged herself to her feet. "I'll have to do it."

"No!" Henry said immediately. Regina's angry murmur of protest followed a moment later and Emma looked from one of them to the other. They all knew something she didn't.

"You can't cast it on your own," Henry said, bringing a towel to Mal so she could stop using her shirt. "This spell's meant to have at least two people. You have powerful magic, but casting a spell this big, over so much ground, you'll kill yourself trying."

"Mal-" Regina pleaded, and the softness in her voice cut into Emma's stomach like a knife. "You can't."

Mal buried her face in the towel, and when she brought it down, her eyes were hard and determined. "I have to find her. This is our only way."

"If Henry's right-" Regina began, leaving her chair to stand face to face with Maleficent.

"She's our daughter," Mal interrupted, reaching for Regina's shoulders. Her voice was almost apologetic, like she'd already begun to say her goodbyes. "I have to."

She couldn't watch them, she couldn't let Maleficent sacrifice herself. Not knowing what the spell did didn't matter, because she wasn't going to let Maleficent pay for what her parents had done. "What about me, could I do it?" Emma said, grabbing Henry's shoulder.

Henry shared a look with Maleficent, and once she nodded, he did as well. "You'll be in Maleficent's memories."

"Perhaps further in than you've ever wanted to be," Mal warned, but she smiled wearily, and gratitude shone in her eyes.

"What about interference?" Emma asked, coming to stand behind Regina. "Will the same thing happen to me?"

"No," Mal answered. She stroked Regina's cheek with her bloodstained hand, trying to make sure Regina wouldn't blame herself. "It's just Regina, and I'm sorry. I should have made sure that you could cast the spell with me before I let you try."

Emma started to wonder what Maleficent should have been looking for but stopped, because it didn't matter. Regina would be safe and the risk was Emma's; that was fine. Being the saviour had to be good for something.

"I shouldn't have healed you," Emma said, realising that she couldn't have stopped herself even if she wanted too. She'd been so angry with her parents that her choices had been to heal Regina or burn down the kitchen with her parents in it. She'd needed to spend the magic somehow, and she'd tried so hard to channel it. Of course she'd gotten that wrong, hurt both Mal and Regina, and now she had to go into the trance and Maleficent's memories.

"It's all right, Emma," Regina promised. She wiped the rest of the blood from her face with a towel, and it seemed the terrifying flow of blood had stopped. Hopefully Mal was right and she'd be okay now; she already looked better. "The spell itself is intense, and the parts of Mal's memories that you'll be in are very intimate."

Emma looked past Regina's soft, worried brown eyes and met Mal's gaze. "What do you mean?"

"The majority of the time I spent with my daughter was when I was pregnant. When Regina and I attempted this spell last month, it brought up many memories of that time in order to feed the spell." Mal looked down at her hands, then back up at Emma. "I don't care if the spell strips all of my secrets bare and lays them before you. We have to find her, but," she paused, "it might be unpleasant for you, and for that you have my apologies."

"That's okay," Emma said, nodding. She knew what that felt like: that desperation, that need to protect her child, so Emma sat down next to Maleficent. Regina's blood lay drying on the wood of the table in front of her and Emma shuddered as their bloodied hands reached for each other. They'd already lost some of the darkness and all the time was precious. Her stomach rolled with fear, because sharing her mind, or Mal's mind, terrified her to the core of her being, because she'd barely let Regina in, but this was for their daughter, and she'd finally be able to make what her parents had done right.

Mal took her hand, and they fell together, crashing over each other as the spell washed over them like a wave. It hummed now, harmonic and content, which Emma didn't understand, but she knew it was right. The spell fed on them both, tasting them, drawing on their strength. It offered up Maleficent's memories as a distraction, perhaps as a gift, and there was no way for Emma to be certain what was happening.

Then she lay in a bed, surrounded by silks and thick, heavy furs, and the bed stretched around her, huge and rounded, like a den. It was her den, her home, and she was safe, content and warm, because she loved Regina, every sense she possessed loved Regina and she was here and they were together. Yet Regina's kisses tasted bittersweet, because there was sadness deep in Mal's heart. Regina was sliding from her, slipping into darkness and Mal couldn't keep her from it. Regina's hands were on her, in her, and magic surged between them. It crested, rising between them, trembling with power, before it crashed within her. More than orgasm, there was suddenly something precious, some shard of Regina within her, and she couldn't understand it then, but she knew later what it was, what had happened. How some part of Regina had moved, taken root, growing, feeding, nestling into Mal's womb. She wouldn't have risked a child, if she'd had the choice, but Regina was too precious, too beautiful to be destroyed by her revenge. She had to save this part of her, keep her safe in the only way she could.

And she loved her. Loves her. Regina was hope and light and warmth when Maleficent had tried to drown herself in that cool misery of the sleeping curse. Regina brought her back, reminded her that life held so much beauty. Of course she fell for her, harder than she'd fallen for Briar Rose, but just like her, Regina wasn't meant to be Maleficent's. It's not Stefan who took Regina, not a man, not even anything human, but revenge: cold and hungry.

She cried after Regina fell asleep, again and again, her tears steaming on the blankets, because she knew that Regina was sliding away, fading, losing herself and Maleficent didn't know if she'd ever return, or if it would take all of Regina's light before her hatred was satiated. She couldn't save her and that was all the more terrible because Regina was the one who saved her from her own lethargy.

Time floated, flashed, and Emma was Maleficent and herself and then the dragon, strong and free and unstoppable. She'd never had such power, felt so liberated, but then her head (Mal's head, not hers) ached, she was always too cold, nauseated. Hungry but not hungry, and everything smelt wrong, touched with rot, pickled and strange. Even her own skin became foreign, unknown, unfamiliar and all she wanted was Regina and she was gone.

The last time she saw her, Regina bound her with leather straps, stole the dark curse, called Maleficent her only friend, and then she was gone. Dark Regina, Regina dressed in black, who wore her pain like armour, swallowed whole by her revenge, and Maleficent was pregnant.

Emma couldn't understand how a dragon even became pregnant, or what the magic involved, but she knew loss and abandonment, and Maleficent was just as much a prisoner in her castle than Emma had been of the state. She mourned Regina, whom she couldn't tell because Regina might turn from the darkness (or might not), might love her just as much and Maleficent couldn't risk that, because that agony could be worse. Loving Regina, taking her away from her revenge, having their little family, all of that risked a pain Maleficent couldn't face, because eventually Regina would die. Her daughter, and the child will be a daughter, will have her longevity, but Regina, her precious Regina is human, and even if Mal took her into her heart, she would die.

Mal won't risk that, and she carried that child alone. Ursula and Cruella flash through Emma's- Mal's- their shared consciousness and the warmth of loving that child, Regina's child, was almost enough to chase the cold, but she was afraid and tired, and there were always terrors coming. Dragon hunters, King Stefan seeking his revenge; Briar Rose, ready to take Maleficent's child because of the way Aurora had suffered. She'd done that to herself, made her own enemies, and she fled, taking the last people she could trust.

Pain overwhelmed them, not emotional anguish, not Regina as she'd been, but physical pain. Emma's labour with Henry was long, and full of regret, but this birth reached into the depths of Maleficent's reserves of strength.

Magical pregnancy was difficult. Magic had a cost and Maleficent paid in agony, including that of the body, which meant nothing to her, even though Cruella relished the suffering and the blood (and her eyes haunted Emma, even through memory). The birth must have fed her dark dreams for years, and Ursula was softer, gentler, and brought her through until she held the baby. Regina's baby, her baby, the baby she didn't dare want even though she wanted her so much. For half a moment, Emma shared her contentment, her love, the perfection of holding that child that not even missing Regina could mar with sorrow.

Then she was gone and it was like losing Henry all over again, and Emma couldn't be sure whose heartbreak they shared, or if it was them both and she didn't have time to ask, or words, because the spell had been fuelled.

And it burnt. They flew through faces, strange places in towns that Emma had never seen. Women walking, driving, brushing their teeth, getting coffee, sitting in offices: all their faces flew together and mesh together but they were wrong, all wrong. The wrongness continued, they kept rushing through lives, one after another, and these women were not the right one. Nothing fit.

It was like looking to each star in the sky, touching, tasting, and they were wrong. Not the right blood. Wrong, wrong, not theirs- not hers- not Regina's. All the searching started to burn, the running, longing, and being unable to breathe.

Then Mal was beside her, running with her, and it was easier, gentler because they weren't alone; Emma knew then that the spell would have killed Maleficent on her own, and she didn't care because it was for her daughter, but she was grateful and she protected Emma, loved her, and Emma finally began to understand what dragon fire had meant when it passed between them. She'd drank it, magnified it, made and shared life, and they were family now.

They shared that and the burning, aching, consuming love for Regina that lay in the past for Maleficent but owned Emma's heart. Regina was family, her mate, her partner, her complement and her love.

More faces flew past them. They tasted more women and they were all wrong. Too much time had passed and the sun had to be coming and there were so many faces that they blurred together and then-

 _Lily_.

Maleficent's Lily, not Emma's, and she wanted to believe that all the familiarity came from Mal, not her, but they looked so much alike. They had the same deep, sad eyes that knew sorrow far beyond what anyone should. The face was right, and Maleficent's joy sung with the spell, with the light. The spell hummed, settling into a chord, because it was perfect.

Finally right.

They fell out of that instant of perfection, collapsing onto the table in front of them where blood had dried. Tears flowed down both of their faces and Emma wasn't sure which of them was sobbing, or perhaps they cried in unison. When she knew her body and her senses again, Regina held a piece of paper with a name that glowed in the darkness of the library and Henry grabbed Emma and hugged her close.

_Lilith Page. Found abandoned, adopted at three weeks of age. June 16th, 1983. St. Paul, Minnesota._

Even though she brimmed with happiness, watching Regina and Maleficent hold each other and cry because they finally know where their daughter was, Emma's traitorous memory reminded her of the girl she'd known who looked so much like this woman. The girl Emma had pushed away and lost, even though she was her first and only friend until she'd come to Storybrooke. She held Henry, hugging him, then him and Regina together. Regina's kiss tasted like tears and salt. Then Mal kissed Emma's cheek and left a hint of smoke. Regina's blood had dried and turned Emma's shirt into a crackling mess, and sweat ran down her skin, dripping onto the floor.

She should have changed before they started because her jeans were so damp that they clung to her like a soggy denim second skin and all she wanted to do was shower, but that practicality was unimportant because they knew where Lily was. They found her.

Almost thirty-two years have passed since Lily was adopted and it was only a starting point, but now Emma knew her face because it had been etched into her memory like her Lily had been, but this will be turn out better. This time, she won't lose her. Mal kissed Emma again, the Regina and Henry before she exploded into smoke and fire and the dragon took off above Regina's house, with a whoosh of air beneath scaled wings, greeting the sunrise.

Henry smiled, then laughed. "Guess she's happy."

Regina and Emma held him, clinging to him because they needed to touch him. He put up with it because it must have scared him. Regina hadn't showered and she still reeked of blood, but it didn't matter. Hope carried them through all of those worries, and it won. This time, the happy ending seemed half-possible.

Henry went to bed, full of joy and relief. Emma and Regina stumbled into the shower, stripping off their filthy clothes and leaving them on the floor. Emma's skin was already so sweat-soaked that Regina's hands slid over her before the water even came on. Regina's lips tasted of hope and love; the water pressed them against the wall, or maybe that was Regina, and the falling water cleansed them both, taking the sweat and the dried blood. Regina's hands slipped between Emma's legs, and she remembered being taken as herself, and not herself, because her mind still remembered how Maleficent felt, how it felt to conceive Regina's child.

Emma's heart was too full not to share, and not touching Regina back would have been tragedy. They barely got the towels between them and the bed. Their hands were drunk with exhaustion, and the dark moon they'd waited so long for watched from the window as they fell, wet and wrapped in each other. Emma stopped them, holding Regina's face above hers until she was certain that she was here, in the present, with this Regina, her Regina, not a memory. Their hands roamed each other's damp skin, and she nibbled Regina's lips, then her neck, then Regina's fingers were within her and her touch brought Emma to the present, to that moment and herself. Her lips found Regina's skin, and her fingers ran down, dived inside of the warmth of her, which made Regina gasp and moan into her neck.

Emma forgot Maleficent's memories, put aside her own losses, and lived a span of moments for Regina's body, for her touch, for her breath against her lips. Afterwards, wrapped in Regina's arms, she trusted that it was going to be all right. They'd find Lily, bring her home, and work on their strange little family of dragons, a lost princess, a queen and their little prince.

* * *

 

 

Hugging Henry one more time didn't make it any easier to let him go. Regina held him again, then took a step back, towards the car. Emma stood by the passenger door, already set. Mal stood behind Henry and nodded to Regina. They could go. In their absence, Mulan would look after the infrastructure, David would run the sheriff's department, and Maleficent would handle magic. She'd stay in their house and keep an eye on Henry, and he'd visit his grandparents, and everything would be fine. Her stomach still twisted when she stepped up to the car. She didn't like leaving Henry, not when they didn't know what dark magic was bringing the beetles.

She had a task, so Regina grabbed the car door and opened it. Emma was happy to let Regina drive the Bug, as long as she didn't complain about it.

"The clutch is a little sensitive, and the brakes are harder than they'll be in the Mercedes." Emma said, tucking their bags into the trunk.

"Are you sure you don't want to drive first?" Regina asked, heading for the driver's seat.

"You wanna drive the easy part in Maine or the annoying part when the freeways go every direction?" Emma teased over the roof.

"Are you insinuating that you don't trust my driving?" Regina asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shrugging and smiling, Emma got into the car. "Not at all, I just thought it would be nice if we took turns." She stole a look back at Henry and Maleficent standing in front of their house. "You know she's going to let Henry have pop tarts and hot sauce for breakfast."

Regina frowned and put the keys in the ignition. She adjusted the mirrors, the seat and the steering wheel until she had them all the way she liked them. "Henry has better taste than that, and if that's what she wants to eat, that's her choice."

"So scrambled eggs and hot sauce then," Emma teased, and watching her smile made it so much easier to smile back.

Regina pushed in the clutch and started the car. Emma was right, it felt different than her Mercedes, less exact, somehow, which made it more like Emma. Henry and Mal watched them pull away. "And bacon, burnt, because Henry will let her burn it black."

"What's the fun of staying with your crazy dragon aunt while your parents are gone if you don't eat some ridiculous things?" Emma leaned back against the headrest and sighed. All of them knew that finding Lily would be a long road, and that it wasn't going to end in an immediate happy ending, but they knew where to start, and this was a good beginning.

Stealing a last look at Henry and Mal, Regina watched them head inside and wondered what they'd do with the day. Henry was so self-sufficient that Mal would barely need to do anything for him. He'd probably be more helpful making sure she ate on a regular schedule and didn't spend days in dragon form, circling the town and looking for more beetles to kill. Focusing on the road, she shifted into a higher gear and the bug leapt a little beneath them.

"Is it okay?" Regina asked, looking at the gauges.

"It's fine. It's an older car, so it'll jump a little. It's sturdy though." Emma settled in to her seat, getting comfortable with the map and the printed directions on her lap. "If you drive until we hit New Hampshire, we can swap there and get some coffee and then we'll get a hotel in New York, somewhere."

"Somewhere?" Regina asked, turning onto the road that led out of town. She'd only left Storybrooke a handful of times, and those were all about Henry. She'd meticulously planned each trip, but Emma didn't travel that way. "I thought New York was a city."

Emma settled the map and put her feet on the dash. It was her car, so Regina couldn't correct her. Maybe it was comfortable to sit like that. "It's a state too, kind of a big one. It's nice. Lots of trees."

"A state and a city?" Regina asked, shaking her head. "You'd think you'd have enough names that you wouldn't have to repeat them."

"The people who did a lot of the naming were lazy, lots of cities have the same names and cities that people came from," Emma said. "And we'll drive past plenty of cities with weird names, and repeated names."

"That must make administrating this realm rather difficult," Regina said. Talking to Emma was a pleasant distraction, but soon enough they reached the town line and she slowed the car. Only the spray painted line on the pavement showed anything was there, but they both knew it was.

Emma took her feet down from the dash and tilted her head towards Regina. "You're worried about the darkness that got in Maleficent, aren't you?"

"We used the town's border to destroy the Chernobog, which was a creature of pure darkness. There was enough of it left to infect her, and if you hadn't done, whatever you did, we might have lost her to that power. That was only shreds of it, remnants of what was. That much darkness must not just disappear." Regina put the Bug in neutral and stared past the line at the innocent trees lining the road. They had the Snow Queen's scroll to make sure they could cross back over, but it wouldn't protect them from any magical remnants of that foul creature still trapped in the town line.

"She was weakened from losing her magic," Emma began, "which we're also going to do when we cross the line."

Regina put her hand back on the gearshift. They'd most likely be fine. Maleficent was a magical creature, and her magic was integral to her being. It was something Emma and Regina had learned, a skill they could utilise, nothing more. "But we're human."

Emma smiled and put her feet back up on the dash. "Are you?"

"Last I checked," she replied. Regina checked her mirrors one more time, just in case. They were alone on the road and it stretched ahead of them, joining other roads in a long, unbroken asphalt path to Lily, the daughter she'd never met. She took a slow breath, forcing herself to count her exhaling, just to maintain control.

Emma reached across and rested a hand on her shoulder, just having the weight of it there made everything easier. "We'll be fine." Then she smiled, and she meant it in a way that nearly took away the knot of fear in the centre of Regina's stomach.

That knot had already been there for days, and she was certain that she'd been so nervous about this trip, her daughter, and leaving Henry that she'd given herself cramps. She'd done that before, years ago, when she couldn't please her mother. That or her anaemia was still affecting her, even though Emma had mostly healed it. She wasn't sure if it would return across the line, and she'd brought the iron pills Dr. Whale wanted her to take, even though she wasn't sure she trusted them any more than magic. Emma knew this world, and she had Emma, and they'd be fine.

The Bug cautiously crossed the line, and Emma chuckled when Regina let out her breath. "See? We're fine."

Neither of them had passed out, or started coughing up black soot. Her head tingled, as if something in the air was too thin, and she felt smaller, like her senses were dimmed. The magic was missing, and she'd grown so accustomed to it, reaching for it, that being without was strange, even empty, but it wasn't necessary for her existence. She's lived without magic before and it was only a few days.

"Feels like we're on top of a mountain, the air's so thin." Emma said, wrinkling her nose. "You okay?"

Taking another breath, Regina nodded and focused on driving. They'd be fine. It would pass, and they just needed a distraction. "Have you been there?"

"Where? Minnesota?" Emma waited for Regina to nod, then continued. "Yeah, lived there for a few years, a group home, then a foster family. Didn't work out."

"I'm sorry," Regina said, even though the words were empty and there was nothing she could say to make Emma's childhood any gentler.

"Wasn't the worst of it, and I survived." Emma took a moment, looking out the window at the trees as she remembered. "Not a bad place, really. Cold winters, but the summers were nice. People there go camping a lot. I've never been, not the go in the woods on purpose kind. You ever take Henry camping?"

Regina frowned, and the hint of wistful hope in Emma's voice made her wish she could say that she hadn't so they could experience it together. Maybe they could still all go, the three of them, before Henry grew too old to want to spend time with his moms. Was that coming? He was already so independent, so grown up. He'd push them both away some as he grew older, but it wouldn't be like before, when he thought she didn't love him. They'd come so far and she had to remind herself that their relationship was better now than it had been for years, maybe ever. "We went camping a few times, in the summers when he was younger. He loved it at first, then we spent less time together, and-"

"All that time we had to spend saving the town really took away from your free time," Emma finished, smiling so easily that Regina let the old hurt go. "I bet you're great at it. Everything all planned out perfectly, neat meal plans and pre-packed food, and you probably bring a coffee pot and everything."

"I don't think I'd want to see you in the morning without easy access to coffee," she teased, returning Emma's smile. "We should try it, if you want to, I mean, when the beetles are gone and we're sure that the woods are safe."

Emma touched her shoulder again, and her hand slid across towards Regina's neck. Her fingers were warm beneath Regina's hair, and she turned her eyes from the road just long enough to smile. There was hope behind the sorrow in Emma's eyes.

"I'd really like it if the first time I went camping was with you and Henry," she said, keeping her hand on Regina's neck. "We can even bring the pet dragon, but she sleeps outside the tent if she's going to be all scaley."

* * *

 

 

Henry set down the tedious novel that he'd been assigned to read (why teachers at his school thought that the literature of this new realm was more important than the stories of the world of his ancestors was beyond her) and looked up at her across the island in the kitchen. "Should I start dinner?"

Even though none of Regina's blood had gone into his making, Mal saw Regina all over his smile. "What are you going to make?"

"Well," Henry started, trying to remember what was in the fridge. "We have hot dogs, pasta, frozen pizza-"

She held up a hand to ask and he nodded before she even said the words.

"You can have jalapeños on your half, and hot sauce," he agreed. "But you have to use a different knife on your side. My side was too hot last time you ran the pizza cutter straight through."

They compromised eventually, and Henry promised to at least try a hot pepper or two. She owed Emma her thanks for explaining that such things existed, and for the collection of hot sauces she was starting to amass in Regina's fridge. Maleficent had her own refrigeration unit in her house, but she kept very little in it. She preferred her meat fresh, and didn't buy anything in advance because it was easy enough to walk to the butcher shop and get some pig or beef to blacken. Henry didn't approve of her cooking methods any more than Regina had, but she could cook some things slower, more patiently, and Henry liked watching her use fire in the backyard to cook. She liked Henry, not just his company, but his mind, and the easy conversations they got into that took most of the time he wasn't in school. He had so many questions, and seemed to absorb all the information she had, because there were always more questions after she'd answered.

Had she heard of his grandfather and his dragon-slaying? Had she known that dragon that he'd killed? Did she know what the book's tale about her was like? Did she have other names?

She hadn't known the book was so florid in its descriptions of Philip and Aurora's true love that she'd thwarted, or how unapologetically biased that book was towards Stefan and Briar Rose. It said nothing of what they'd done, or of Snow White and her prince's crimes. Of course, it wouldn't, because that damned author wasn't worth the ink he'd spilt on Cruella.

"Was it different before?" Henry asked over their pizza, starling her out of her thoughts.

"Was what different before?"

He toyed with the crust of the pizza on his plate. "You said the author changes, they retire, move on. Was it different before, when you had a different author?"

"A good author is a record keeper, a storyteller who might embellish a detail or two, make the ogres more frightening or change the colour of a dragon, but that author would never alter the story. The one before this dreadful individual was very fair and kept the story more balanced. She embellished when she thought it added artistic flair, or it might have made the children laugh, that I can forgive, because the hearts of the stories remained true." Maleficent explained over her glass. She set that down and picked up her pizza again, ignoring the pile of leaves on half of her plate, even though Henry had already eaten his salad and would shortly insist that she eat hers.

"And what's true?"

She smiled and poked at her leaves with her fork. "What do you think?"

"True would mean an accurate recording of events," he said. He refilled his glass with that fizzy stuff he drank instead of wine and waited for her to elaborate.

"What's accurate?" she asked, lifting her pizza. "The son of the saviour and the evil queen dined on slaughtered hog and the other fruits of his serf's labour."

"That's not," he started, then stopped, shaking his head. "The people who work at the grocery store aren't my serfs, they just work there, the way Emma's the sheriff."

"But Regina rules over them as their mayor," Maleficent said, toying with a jalapeno before she ate it. "This food is composed of the meat of a pig, that someone assembled with bread, sauce and cheese, so you could bake it. Your mother's position allowed you to acquire it. A skilled author would know the difference between you trading your mothers' work for goods in a fair exchange, while a tactless idiot hoping to further his own goals might write that your mother's wicked rule provides you with food you haven't earned, and that the peasants in the market fear your very approach."

"I think they were afraid of you-" he muttered.

"That makes you even more of a tyrant, you're a young prince who dares not walk amongst his subjects without the protection of the most vile of beasts," Mal teased, lifting up her wine. "A good author turns the dull truth into a story of hope and strength that inspires those who read it to better themselves and fight on. A subpar author writes for himself, which turns even the most mundane of tasks into an opera of misunderstandings and twisted emotions."

"Which is poor storytelling," Henry agreed, glancing at the book he was still making his way through. "Something that ought to be explained to the writers in this realm, even if they're not as famous as our author."

Mal nodded to him again and sipped from her glass. "Homework isn't going well then?"

Henry shrugged and idly played with his napkin. "It's dull."

"Reading is a skill worth maintaining," she assured him, then tried to think of something more supportive to add. Making sure Henry's homework went well was high on the list of things Regina had left her, but he seemed to have it in hand. He was trustworthy. "Are you prepared to stay with your grandparents for the weekend?"

He frowned. "Yeah, do I have to?" Henry picked up his empty plate and put it in the dishwasher. He left her own in front of her because he wouldn't take it until she'd eaten the salad, which meant she had to eat it, because she'd promised Regina and Emma to be a good example.

"No," she answered with a shrug. He was old enough to make his own choices, in some realms he'd be considered an adult. "Your mother did not think that you'd want to spend the next two days with me in the woods, hunting these damn beetles so she arranged for you to stay with them."

He returned to the table and sat across from her, still fidgeting with his napkin even as he looked at her. "And if I did?"

"I can't say that I blame you, I'm far better company than those two," she said dryly. Taking a bite of her salad, she forced herself to chew, swallow and not make too much of a face because he was watching.

"The beetles haven't attacked anyone," he said, trying to steer her into agreement. Henry spending the next two days with her in the woods rather than with his stuffy, self-righteous grandparents would annoy them greatly, so she was already on his side, but she'd have to discuss it with Regina and Emma, who might not want their son traipsing through the woods. "I wouldn't be in any danger."

"They haven't attacked anyone, yet," she reminded him. They paused while she forced herself to swallow more of the salad. The tomatoes weren't as bad as the lettuce and lettuce couldn't follow her into the woods, she'd be free from salad for the next few days. "The protection spells your mothers left around the town will keep the beetles away from all the stored food and they'll have to find something else. They might start hunting the animals of the forest, or any animals that happen to be in the forest."

"Would that include you?"

She shook her head and smiled, baring her teeth just a little. "Nothing but humans have ever tried to hunt me. Everything else knows better."

That gave him the in he wanted, and she should have known that he was planning to trap her. "So I'd be safe with you?"

Maleficent pushed her remaining salad across the table in front of him so he could eat it instead of her. "In theory, yes."

Henry returned her smile at ate the rest of her salad without complaining. He actually seemed to like the stuff. "There's ice cream in the freezer," he reminded her. "You could serve while I call my moms and tell them that we're going camping."

Camping was such a quaint little term for sleeping rough in the woods. Of course, she had magic and there were animals worth hunting nearby so it would be pleasant to be out, even if the weather continued to rain. This realm's eternal cloudy skies were obviously something that had fit into Regina's curse when the town had been formed. She nodded to him and tilted her head towards the phone. She cleared the rest of their dinner and took the ice cream out of the freezer. There were many things about food in this world that she found offensive, but ice cream almost made up for all the vegetables and tasteless bread. She gave him more than she did herself, because he was growing. Wondering if his father had been tall, she sat back down at the table, ice cream in front of her and waited for Henry to come sit.

He paced the living room before he sat down across from her, still on the phone. "Emma says hi," he repeated for his mom, digging his spoon into the rich chocolate chilli ice cream.

Maleficent licked her lips and wondered if that meant she should return her greetings. "Then I do as well," she said. "And to Regina."

"Mom's in their hotel room," Henry explained. "Emma's grabbing their dinner. They're in a hotel near Syracuse." That meant nothing to her, but Henry would be able to find it on a map and that should please him. Emma talked for awhile on the other end of the line and Henry smiled and answered her questions calmly. Mal finished her wine and lazily savoured her ice cream. She'd eat the whole container if she let herself, so it was good that she had Henry for company to eat the other half.

"Here you go," Henry said, passing across the phone and reaching for his spoon.

Reluctantly setting her spoon down, she accepted the phone.

"So you're taking him beetle hunting?" Emma asked on the end of the line.

"He expressed a desire to assist in the protection of the town, seeing as that is something both of his mothers are constantly engaged in, I thought it was prudent to take him with me. I assure you, he'll be safe." She waited for Emma to voice her objections, and perhaps it was because that letting him go with Mal kept her from having to talk to her parents that she gave in, either way, Mal nodded to Henry.

Across the table, Henry grinned back because he knew he'd won.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the extra time this chapter took. huge thanks again to wapwani and race, they make this so much better and make writing it such a lovely experience.
> 
> there are descriptions of vomiting in this chapter.

Regina shifted beneath the unfamiliar blankets, slipping onto Emma's side of the bed where the sheets were cooler, already losing Emma’s warmth, even though she'd gotten up just a few minutes ago, talking about breakfast. The hotel had waffles and Emma, like a five year old, had been excited by the promise of them since they'd checked in. She’d teased Emma before about eating like a child but the chiding held no heat. Regina actually found it incredibly endearing and though Emma had never mentioned liking waffles before, Regina could already tell it was likely to become a common breakfast occurrence. It was embarrassing really, how quickly she had become a person who wanted to make Emma Swan smile and yet, she thought of Emma and Henry, sitting at the kitchen counter, bickering over syrup and toppings and second helpings and it warmed something inside her, as if she were already standing in the kitchen, the scent of cooking batter and home all around them already.

Unfortunately, thinking about the actual food made Regina’s stomach twist and she grimaced. The strange, half-cramps she'd had since before she left Storybrooke were back. The discomfort - it wasn't quite pain - crept into her consciousness, bringing her fully into waking with less pleasant thoughts than Emma and Henry across the breakfast table from her. She started to sit up and her stomach swam, twisting as it rose into her throat, making her promptly lay back down, breathing slowly as she waited for it to still, her mind now churning as fast as her stomach. What was it? Was she ill? Was it the lack of magic? Emma seemed fine. She'd had magic for less time, maybe she was less accustomed to it. Regina rolled to her side and saw the little orange bottle of iron supplements that Dr. Whale had prescribed her. Nausea and abdominal pain were both listed in the side effects. She shut her eyes and listened to the cars on the road outside the hotel while she waited for her stomach to settle. And it would settle, she told herself silent, firmly. It was the side effects of the iron supplements and it would pass. Anything else was unacceptable.

She must have drifted to sleep again because the next thing she knew, Emma was back, sitting beside her on the bed carefully..

"Hi sleepyhead," Emma murmured, running gentle fingers through Regina’s hair. "Morning."

"’Morning,” Regina replied, voice sleep-rough and gravelly.

"I brought waffles," Emma said, gesturing to the plate on the table. "And coffee and slightly questionable orange juice that's probably from concentrate, but isn't that bad. The waffles smell good anyway."

Now that she mentioned them, Regina could smell them: sweet and buttery, and just like that the nausea was back and worse than ever. Shutting her eyes, she took slow, deep breaths, forcing her gorge down.

"Hey--" Emma stroked her cheek. "I’m sorry. Didn't know you hated waffles."

When Regina managed to open her eyes again, it was to Emma’s guilty expression and shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Reaching out a hand still clumsy from sleep, she touched Emma’s leg, trying to reassure her.

"I don't," Regina said, rolling to her back, sighing softly in frustration. A lifetime of training made it so hard to admit to weakness and yet...this was Emma and Emma was safe. Emma was safe and she deserved to understand and somehow, that made telling the truth about the mess of her stomach somehow acceptable. "It’s my stomach, I think it's the iron supplements."

The little bottle rattled as Emma picked it up and read the information printed on it. "They bothered your stomach yesterday too, didn't they?"

She nodded, and even though it was just a little motion of her chin, Emma understood. Her warm mouth pressed against Regina's forehead.

"I'll get you some toast, okay?"

"Emma-" Regina started to protest that she should stay, eat her waffles while they were warm, but the door had already shut behind Emma. Dragging herself up so she leaned back against the headboard, Regina pulled up her knees and hugged them to her chest. On the table sat the plate of waffles Emma had brought up, covered in berries, butter and syrup. She knew it all smelt good, but the thought of eating seemed to be crosswired in her brain. She couldn't, not the way her stomach was.

Emma was back before she'd had time to do much more than sip the orange juice, which was far too sweet.

"Here," Emma offered, passing over a plate of dry toast. "I brought you some tea too, but start with the toast."

"Thank you," she replied, staring at the plate in her lap. The plain, browned bread didn't seem too difficult to swallow.

"Iron supplements can be awful," Emma said, watching Regina lift her toast with a sympathetic smile. "And being without magic probably doesn't help."

"No." Forcing herself to take a bite, Regina chewed. Emma, apparently wasn't going to stop watching her until she managed to swallow, so she did. "You should eat, they're already cold."

Emma shrugged as if it wasn’t an issue but Regina had seen her eying the plate and she nodded again when Emma looked at her, urging her to start. Waiting until Emma had grabbed her plate and attacked her breakfast, with an appetite Regina could only envy, she attempted another bite of toast. "We'll be near Chicago tonight," Emma said around bites. "If your stomach's better, we can get real deep dish, or barbeque, both are great there."

Taking a tentative sip of her tea, Regina nodded without really listening. Emma's memories of different cities were usually of the food, of the weather, never of people or things that she'd done. She'd seen so much of this vast realm without magic, yet she remained in Storybrooke, in a tiny little town that had none of the food she found so exciting, that was so far from the places in her memories. She must have missed this big, bustling world of late night talk shows, freeways and drive through donut shops.

"What is it?" Emma asked, setting down her fork on her half-empty plate.

Regina toyed with the crust of her toast, then looked up, almost more curious than concerned about what Emma might say. "Do you miss being out here?"

To her surprise, Emma was quiet for a moment. Regina had expected her to brush off the question but then maybe she wasn’t giving Emma, or their bond, enough credit. She’d been able to admit to Emma she felt sick, it seemed, Emma felt some of the same comfort. When she did finally answer her voice was soft. "Sometimes I miss the space. Sometimes Storybrooke can feel pretty small you know?” And Regina was silent but oh, she knew. But Emma continued, “Missing this world it’s like...it’s like most people miss fairytales,” she grinned wryly. “I miss the idea of it sometimes but the reality? The reality was sleeping in hotels, eating in cheap restaurants every night. It was living in my car, because I couldn’t afford rent for a couple years and filling out paperwork. Living here was listening to people - sometimes bad people sometimes just sick people who needed help and didn’t get it - lie to themselves and the people who loved them that they'd do better this time. And it was being alone. All the time." Emma shook her head as if to dispel the memories and stole another bite of waffle. "Whatever else Storybrooke is, it’s home."

The light that came into her eyes with the last word eased the tension Regina didn't realise had joined the churning of her stomach. This world they traveled now was Emma's old life; Storybrooke, Henry and her family, that was home.

* * *

 

"Tell me, what has your grandfather told you about dragons?" Maleficent asked him, stopping beside a pine to listen to the woods around them.

Henry shrugged. "Not much. There's a story of him killing one in the book. His twin brother, James, whom he replaced-"

She waved her hand and nodded, because she knew that story. "How funny that King George thought he could just replace one offspring with another."

"James wasn't his son either," Henry reminded her, stopping at her side. "My grandfather has no noble blood. He and his brother were both born shepherds. James just grew up as a prince."

"A lovely upbringing, I'm sure," she mused. Pointing at the centre of the clearing in front of him, she changed the subject. "What do you see?"

"Wood?" Henry guessed, then took a step forward.

She smelt the bones before she saw them, but his nose wasn't as keen. He'd have to use his eyes, and his eyes were only human. For a human boy, though, he had a good mind behind those eyes. It pleased Maleficent. Regina’s son was a pleasant child and intelligent. She’d raised him well. She’d been able to raise him. Maleficent forced her thoughts in another direction. She had to trust that Regina and the S...and Emma would find Lily. Oddly, she found it not so difficult to believe these days.

Henry looked where she suggested, then nodded, seeing the white bones, stripped clean of flesh.

"Bones," Henry corrected himself. "What was it?"

They advanced on the little skeleton, surrounded by a halo of grey fur. The bones shone white in the sun, completely picked clean of flesh. "I think it was a squirrel," she said, tracing one of the ribs with her finger. "Perhaps a rabbit."

Henry stared at the bones, then up at her. "So what ate it? We have wolves, but, they'd be messier, right? There's no blood."

Mal wrinkled her nose, because she couldn't pick up the telltale traces of a predator, rather the rich, pungent scent of magic. The hint of rot beneath magic's sweetness suggested this was dark, darker than anything she'd smelt for a long time.

"Do you smell that?"

Henry shook his head. "I don't have any magic, and I'm human. Our noses aren't that good."

Raising one eyebrow, Maleficent looked at the boy in approval, merely nodding at his reply. "I thought as much, but sometimes its difficult to separate magical senses from physical." Tilting her head to look at the carcass, she frowned. "I think our beetles have become interested in live prey."

Henry asked, raising his eyebrows. "Squirrels?"

"Probably anything they can bring down," she said, resting her hands on her hips. "When your mothers protected the town, they took away the easy food sources. When the beetles grew hungry enough, they found other things to eat."

"So until we run out of squirrels, we're okay?" His tone was light but there was a seriousness about his eyes, something in the set of his face that reminded Maleficent of his mothers and told her he understood the situation was not so easy.

"They'll eat until they're satiated, and because they were created through magic, that will never happen." She touched his shoulder, drawing him nearer to her. "If I need to change, you get on my shoulders and stay there."

For a second, his eyes widened in excitement, then twinkled and that expression...that expression was wholly Regina. “Shouldn’t be hard, I've ridden horses a little."

She gave him a scathing look and he chuckled.

"Sorry.” But he smiled and Maleficent found her lips wanting to twitch upward as well. Cheeky boy.

Muttering about being compared to horses like she were the property of some peasant, Maleficent followed the lingering stench of the beetles and the dark magic that powered them.

"Why did you ask about my grandfather?" Henry asked, when he'd deemed it safe to speak again.

"He's famous for slaying a dragon. Not exactly something I consider a mark in his favour." The reek of dark magic grew as they walked, filling the air.

Eventually, even Henry must have smelt it, judging by his frown. "How do you know that's dark magic? It just smells weird."

"Dark magic starts seductive, powerful, makes you want more of it, but it's twisted, hungry. It'll take everything."

Henry was quiet for a while and Maleficent could almost feel his brain working. She wasn’t surprised at his next words. In truth she had been expecting a question like this for some time. Regina had told her much of what had happened between them, this boy who she had adopted and herself, and what she hadn’t spoken of, Maleficent had experienced in Regina’s memories. She still remembered the longing, the aching emptiness, the dark days when Henry pulled away from her and though they happened to Regina and not her, Maleficent felt the ache as if it were her own. In part because she would always love Regina, and in part because the magic they had shared lately created an incredibly deep connection that was fading only slowly. And, Maleficent admitted to herself, being separated from one’s child was an agony Maleficent understood all too well.

"Were you ever like my mom? Did…” He paused as if searching for the right words and Maleficent waited. “Did magic make you hurt people?”

Maleficent fidgeted with her coat button, running through her very long memory and deciding how to answer Regina’s son. The boy deserved the truth, but she also knew from Regina’s memories that the other woman had struggled to protect her boy from what she had suffered. Her wicked deeds might have been laid bare by the infamous Storybook Mal had yet to see, but she knew Regina’s heart, she knew her mind, and she knew how Regina felt about what she perceived as weakness. It was a quality that Maleficent greatly admired but also, sometimes, made her incredibly frustrated. Regina would let her son think her evil and deny too much of the pain she’d suffered at the hands of others just so he would be protected from the knowledge that she could - and had been - hurt.

As a human, Maleficent understood some of Regina’s motivations but as a dragon, as one who had loved (and maybe still did) Regina deeply, Maleficent could not bring herself to shield Henry quite the way his mother had. In most cultures, he would be considered nearly a man. Maybe it wasn’t her place, but Maleficent owed a debt to Regina, the debt of a child. Maybe here was an opportunity to repay that debt, at least in some tiny way.

"Your mother has extraordinary talent, especially for a human, and she studied hard to become as good with magic as she is. Magic is complex and difficult, and she's learned more about it than most humans could ever hope to know." She hadn't answered his question and his eyes stayed on her until she sighed. "No, magic and I had a different relationship than she did with hers. I was taught by my mother, and my grandmother. I learned magic slowly, from creatures who had been using magic for centuries, for whom it was as natural as breathing."

He smiled a little, but sorrow stayed in his eyes. "You mean dragons."

"Magic is different if you're born with it. I learned magic as I learned to walk and fly. It was just another part of me that I had to master. Humans, like your mother, learn it later, and her teacher was the Dark One. He engineered much of her path to ensure that she cast the Dark Curse and brought us from our realm to this strange place. If your mother had learned magic from a different teacher--" she let the thought trail off. She should have fought harder to keep Regina with her, tried to keep her away from Rumplestiltskin and his plotting.

Mal reached for his shoulder and squeezed it. He'd seen much for someone who'd lived such a tiny span of time and she could tell him little to ease his concerns. "Regina fought her way back from a very dark place, and I admire her greatly for that. She even brought me back to myself once, when I'd given up and turned my anger inward instead of outward, as she did. I lost someone I cared for, deeply, and I started numbing myself with a watered-down sleeping curse, just to make the years pass until it hurt less, and it never did. I don't know how long it would have taken me to dig out of that cold little hell, if I ever would have, were it not for your mother."

He digested that idea, and let her hand remain on his shoulder as they walked. "Is that how you met? When you were-" he paused, trying to be kind.

She finished for him, saving Henry the trouble. "When I was hiding from the world. Your mother just appeared one day, in my castle, shy yet full of determination at the same time. I'd become so despondent that I'd become trapped in this body. I lost the dragon's fire, and without that--" She shrugged, trying not to dwell too deeply on that stretch of time where she'd buried herself so far from everything. "Your mother helped me get it back. Insisted that I change into a dragon again. Even risked herself, just to force me to shift and scorch the foolish knights that had captured us."

"Who captured you?" he asked. "Aurora's parents?"

"Yes, King Stefan the square-jawed," she answered with a hint of a growl. "He and his equally unimaginative knights caught your mother and I when I failed to shift into a dragon. She tried to fight them off, but her fireballs were still unreliable, those of a student, and I was useless." Mal knelt, checking the trail of broken undergrowth.

"You were useless?" Henry pressed, curious but gentle. "How?"

"Your mother grew more powerful when she was lost, I grew less," she answered, then rubbed her hands together, trying to sense the dark power that these damn beetles carried with them. It had been here, they'd been here so recently that she felt them. She and Henry were getting closer. "If we find them, you get behind me and stay there."

Nodding, he met her eyes, his face still but fearless. He took after both of his mothers that way, willing to strive headlong forward, no matter the danger. "Okay."

* * *

 

  
Emma fiddled with the radio, pulling the music station that had kept her company for the last fifty miles back from static. She settled back in her seat, following the well-lit freeway west, towards the inky blue sky. The sun had set awhile back, and she'd meant to stop and start looking for her favourite little barbecue shop, if it was still around, but Regina had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, and there was no point in waking her on the flimsy promise of some restaurant that was probably gone.

So she'd kept driving, listening to old songs and letting her thoughts drift unheeded. Regina must have needed the sleep, because even Emma's slightly tuneless singing hadn't woken her. She'd tried so hard not to let her nausea be a problem, or even a subject of discussion, and Emma suspected that if it had been a few months ago, she would have been lucky to even know that Regina felt sick. Knowing she was ill, discussing it with her, that was a privilege, a kind of trust that felt right even through the newness.

Even so, Regina had driven for more than an hour that afternoon before she'd admitted (though Emma had wondered when she was going to say something) that her head hurt and staring at the lines ahead of them on the road just made her stomach churn, so they'd stopped. Sitting in the sun at a rest area in the middle of nowhere, watching everyone else hurry by, Emma could almost feel their magic stirring between them. She knew better, because they had no connection like that here, but yet... Maybe it was a different kind of magic, one that had no boundaries.

Emma didn't mind driving, she'd driven all over the country by herself, so she'd taken over, and they'd talked, first about Emma's experiences, then about nothing, then Henry, and when they'd slipped into comfortable silence, Regina had fallen asleep.

And she remained that way, even as the big black darkness that was Lake Michigan grew up ahead, and Emma glanced over at Regina again before she took the exit for the smaller road, leaving the freeway to follow the shore for awhile and cut through Chicago that way. She'd given up on stopping, because she wasn't tired and Regina might as well sleep until Emma found a good hotel. It would mean less to drive tomorrow and maybe they could stop for pizza on the way back. They'd probably end up in some little guest house with overly kitschy artwork in Wisconsin, but Emma liked finding the quieter paths. They still had a long way to go and the smaller roads had better scenery, even if it was sand dunes and trees all around the moonlit water after the bright lights of Chicago died away. Lake Michigan wasn't the sea, of course, but there was a majesty to it all the same.

For a long time it was just Emma, the radio and the moon over the water, then Regina's cell rang, splitting the softness of music. Regina stirred and moaned, pulling herself out of sleep to answer. Emma smiled at her sympathetically as Regina forced herself awake. She was really cute, her dark hair falling into her eyes as she pushed it back.

"Hello?" She listened for a moment then turned to Emma, still half asleep. "It's Henry." Regina shut off the radio and put her phone on speaker, holding it between them as Emma drove.

Henry's voice was full of excitement. He'd been in the woods with Maleficent all day, tracking the devouring beetles, which had apparently taken to devouring living things, not just boxes of cornflakes.

"We found the bones of a deer just before we made camp," he finished. "They stripped it bare."

Emma smiled at the hint of wonder in his voice. Of course, he was fascinated by whatever was happening to their town. Mal was probably teaching him all kind of things.

"A deer?" Regina asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide her yawn. "I thought they didn't feed on anything living."

A voice muttered in the background, female, and it must have been Mal. Henry waited for her to finish, then explained what she'd said. "Mal thinks that all the protection spells around the houses and the town must have made them desperate for food. They must have swarmed all over whatever they could catch, lots of squirrels, and the deer. They ate all but the fur and the bones, those were so clean that they're white."

Suppressing a shudder, Emma caught the shift in expression on Regina's face, as Henry's words banished the last of her comfortable sleepiness. They had a problem; Emma could see it in the tightness of Regina's forehead.

"What are you doing now? Is Mal keeping you safe?"

Emma could almost picture Maleficent rolling her eyes and the look she'd share with Henry. He was probably as safe as he'd be without them there to protect him. Emma knew where she'd bet on the great dragon versus beetles standoff.

"We're fine," he promised. "There's a ring of dragon fire around the campsite and trust me, nothing's getting through that. The protection spells around the town are holding. Granny and Ursula are watching them. Everyone's safe."

"For now," Regina muttered, her voice so low that only Emma heard.

"We're completely safe, Mom," Henry promised, the firmness in his tone ending that discussion as efficiently as Regina would. "Tell me about your drive, where are you guys now?"

Regina looked at Emma, lifting her free hand for help. She had no idea where they were and she wasn't going to admit to Henry that she'd been asleep.

"We just crossed into Wisconsin," Emma said, looking away from Regina before she was the recipient of a chastising look. "I took the scenic route through Chicago and now we're on the shore of Lake Michigan. It's not the sea, but it's pretty. Lots of sand dunes." They talked awhile longer, Henry curious about the states he hadn't seen, and Emma explaining that all freeways kind of looked the same after awhile. They took turns wishing Henry and Mal good luck (and safety) on their bug hunt and they reminded Henry how much they loved him. His reply had a hint of that teenage sense of embarrassment, but only a little. They promised to call in the morning, then Regina hung up.

Emma kept her eyes straight ahead, wondering when Regina would realise that she'd let her sleep through Chicago. Regina would have wanted her to stop, even if she was asleep because she knew how much Emma wanted real deep dish pizza. Emma didn't know how to explain that she wanted pizza with Regina, not just pizza, and waking her up just for dinner when she was obviously so tired seemed heartless. The few quick looks that Emma stole in Regina's direction suggested that she was going to get a lecture as soon as Regina found the right words. They drove in that silence for awhile, without even the radio to break it. At least, Emma thought Regina was disappointed, or angry, the way she stared ahead, her hand braced on the dashboard.

When she finally spoke, Regina wasn't upset at all, and the urgency of her voice sent Emma's heart into her stomach. "Emma-"

"What is it?"

"Stop the car." Regina swallowed hard and Emma knew what that painful, gulping sound had to be. She slowed the car, pulling onto the shoulder on the quiet road. When the Bug stopped, she turned off the engine and circled to other side of the car just in time to catch her shoulder when Regina stumbled out of the car. Emma led her the few steps to the ditch, and held her steady as she threw up. Whispering stupid things, like how it was okay, Emma held Regina's thick hair out of the way and watched steam rise from the damp grass in the ditch.

Regina had one moment to breathe, then her stomach emptied the rest of its contents. Something dark marred her lips, and Emma immediately thought of Maleficent, and whatever black stuff had been inside of her. Was this the same? Had whatever dark power the Chernobog left in the town line gotten into Regina? What could Emma do to help her without magic? Was it going to get worse before she got Regina back to Storybrooke where she could heal her?

Retching twice more before her stomach settled, Regina caught Emma's arm and held her tight, while she got her breath again. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Emma repeated, surprised. "Are you okay? Do you feel any better?" She rested her free hand on Regina's forehead, staring into her eyes, then led her back to the car. Regina leaned against the Bug, using it for balance. Emma grabbed one of their water bottles from the back, opened the cap and held it up for Regina. "Here, drink this and spit it out."

For once, Regina did as Emma suggested, and they stood there in the Bug's hazard lights, flashing yellow in the darkness. Standing next to her, Emma tried not to be a helpless wreck, but she was, because without magic she couldn't do anything other than wait for Regina to tell her she was okay, and though she looked a little better, she was still so pale. Regina's skin was too warm, even though vomiting had put a sheen of cool sweat over her skin, she was still warm beneath that.

"Tell me you're okay," Emma repeated, wishing she could do anything at all to help. Regina's left hand found Emma's and squeezed it. She even tried to smile, and Emma's heart clenched harder because Regina was trying to make her feel better, which was completely backwards.

"I think I'm just carsick."

"You don't get carsick," Emma argued, still vibrating with concern as she turned to get a better look at Regina's face. She brushed something dark off the corner of Regina's mouth and winced. "Vomit's not supposed to be black."

"I took those damn iron supplements Whale gave me before I fell asleep," Regina remind her, her breathing slowing now that her stomach was empty. "I should have waited until we stopped for dinner. It was stupid of me."

"Regina," Emma protested as Regina washed her mouth out again. "Maleficent was full of that dark gunk for days after she crossed the town line and it nearly killed her. This could be the same thing, delayed because we're out here, or something. We don't--"

Stroking Emma's arm, Regina leaned closer, letting her head rest against Emma's shoulder, calm in a way Emma couldn't be. "Those vicious little pills have made me feel sick since the first time I took them. I think it was just because I was in the car all day, and I--" she paused, lifting her head to look at Emma. "I'm all right."

Emma touched Regina's shoulder, smiling even though she thought she'd almost rather cry. "You threw up in a ditch and you're trying to make me feel better."

"Maybe you look worse than I feel," Regina teased. Her warm fingers stroked Emma's cheek. "I'm fine."

Her fingers were warmer than they should have been, and Emma worried, even though that was the last thing Regina wanted her to do. Emma nodded, trying to force herself to agree.

"What happened to Chicago?" Regina asked after they stood awhile in silence. She kept the water down after she drank it, and the knot of worry in Emma's stomach started to settle. "You were so excited about pizza."

Emma tilted her head. "You were asleep."

Her tiny smile in response was so gentle that Emma started to blush. "I don't mind it if you wake me up. It seems I need to make more of an effort to eat regularly to offset whatever those vile pills are doing to my stomach. You have my permission to wake me," Regina said, smiling more. "I'm sorry you missed your chance for pizza."

Shrugging, Emma toyed with the cap of the water bottle in her fingers. "We still have the whole drive back," she replied, her cheeks still warm. "I was more excited to have pizza with you anyway. I know it's not something you normally like-"

"I like pizza," Regina interrupted, nudging Emma with her elbow. "More importantly, I like spending time with you, which includes eating special Chicago pizza. I know it's been a strange, stressful trip because we don't know what's happening with the beetles back home and we're not sure what's going to happen when we find Lily, yet I've enjoyed it." She took another sip of water and glanced at the ditch. "Most of it, anyway. I've barely been out of Storybrooke, and I've never seen this world with someone who's lived in it. I've always had to be so careful that I didn't give anything away, or say something wrong, but it's safe with you. You understand this place."

Looking down as she smiled, Emma cheered up a little because this was a nearly empty road in the middle of nowhere, which was an odd thing to understand.

"What?" Regina wondered.

Emma's smile grew and she felt that much more like an idiot, leaning on the Bug next to Regina while the world moved around them. "I like being with you too, even when you're-"

"Throwing up in a ditch." Regina joked, then rested her head on Emma's shoulder. "Would you feel better if I promise to give you more notice if I feel sick again?"

"Yes!" Emma replied far too quickly. "I thought-" she paused, because she hadn't thought. She'd just stopped the car; Regina removed the time Emma spent thinking, just by existing. Kissing Regina's forehead, Emma wrapped her arm around her back. "It doesn't matter. When the Bug's safe from your stomach, we'll drive the last part to the hotel, and Minnesota's only six hours away, so we can have breakfast tomorrow while we read what my contact was able to find about Lily. Hopefully, her school records and some old addresses. We should be able to pick up a trail and find her."

"Finding people is something that you're good at," Regina said, leaning into Emma's arm. "You'll do it." She patted Emma's arm then stood free from the Bug. "Come on, I'm all right."

After heading back to the driver's side of the car, Emma buckled her seat belt and checked for room to pull out back onto the road. "This is nicer with someone," she said as they got back up to speed. "I've driven all over the country, usually by myself, and it's much nicer having--" she paused, because she'd almost said 'company' but that wasn't it. Regina wasn't just a person who happened to be with her.

Regina's hand rested on her shoulder, then slipped to the back of her neck, resting warm against her skin as Emma drove.

"Having you," Emma finished shyly, keeping her eyes on the road.

* * *

 

Henry had thought that when Ursula called, she would have used a phone, like his moms did, but Mal didn't have her own phone. Maybe she didn't even use one, because out of all the fairy tale characters he'd met, she was one of the least integrated into the contemporary world of Storybrooke. While even the dwarves were comfortable using ATM cards, Mal refused to have one and his mom had worked something out with the supermarket, and Granny's, because Maleficent didn't trust the unseen magic of invisible money and she was apparently terrible at remembering to carry the paper kind. So maybe he should have been less surprised when Ursula called her with a burst of water in the sky, like a huge water balloon.

No amount of strangeness, or seeing Maleficent turn into a dragon at a distance could have prepared him for the rumbling rush of magic that took her. It must have been an emergency message, because Mal didn't even take the time to explain to him what was happening.

Wind spiraled around them, then dark smoke, black and purple at the same time, engulfed her. She vanished and grew, and when Mal solidified again, she was the size of a small house, covered in thick scales that gleamed in the sunlight. A great clawed paw reached for him, gently scooping him up into talons that could have pierced his chest. She dropped him onto her back, just above her thick wings. Henry grabbed on, wrapping his hands around the warm scales of her neck. Riding a dragon was absolutely nothing like riding a horse, or a motorcycle, or anything he'd ever been on. He'd been in a plane, with Emma, but the plane hadn't coiled beneath him and sprang into the air. His breath fled from his lungs, and his ears popped as they rose. He hunkered down and Mal raised her head, protecting him from most of the wind as she flew towards the centre of town. The trees rushed away beneath them, like a green-brown carpet, then it broke, opening up onto a road, and Maleficent picked up more speed.

The stink of sulphur and the sudden heat through the scales of her neck against his legs was his first warning of her firebreath. They dropped over the town, soaring just over the clocktower before they lowered over the parking lot of the supermarket. Henry had watched his mothers set protection spells all around the market, and every inch of the gently glowing wall they'd left behind was covered in black beetles, swarming over each other, climbing higher, standing on top of each other, like they were one massive blob, reaching forward. When had they become so many? His mothers had been hunting them in the woods with most of the Sheriff's department and they'd never had so many together. They talked about nests, clusters, something maybe as big as a car, but nothing like this swarm. Where had they been hiding? Why hadn't they seen them? Much of the town stood behind the protective barrier, grim-faced with flamethrowers in their hands. He made out Granny, and his grandparents standing beside her. Ursula and Cruella stood in the middle. Ursula somehow communicating with Maleficent in a language Henry had never heard before. He could almost hear Ursula's voice in his head, reverberating through his chest.

Maleficent flew over the supermarket once, taking in the scene, then she rained fire down on the black mass of swarming insects. He lay against her neck, clinging to her as fire erupted all around him, incinerating the beetles as if they were paper being tossed into a fireplace. She hovered, took another breath and continued turning everything around the protective bubble of the spell into a blistering inferno. The beetles died as if they were one creature, crumbling to ash, popping and hissing. The hideous scene reminded him of throwing a marshmallow in the fire when he was little and watching it swell and smoke. The protection spell held, making a bubble of safety around the supermarket and part of the parking lot as Maleficent torched everything around it. She circled on huge wings, making another pass and spitting enough fire to make the asphalt crack. Smoke stung his eyes, but somehow he could still breathe. Magic must have been involved, because there was enough heat around him to have burnt him as efficiently as the beetles.

They sank down, landing just inside the protective bubble. Almost as one, everyone retreated instinctually from the dragon, except Ursula, who hurried forward, and Cruella, who just beamed, as if what she'd seen had been a really exciting football game.

"Fan out, make sure we've burnt them all," Granny yelled, taking charge of everyone on the ground. "Remember, your flamethrowers can pass through the shield, the bugs can't, so start burning and don't stop until they're gone."

Maleficent lowered her head, bringing him close enough that he could slide off her neck onto the ground. He leaned on her front leg, still dazed by his flight. All around them, everyone moved quickly, burning the few beetles that had remained.

"Are you all right?" Ursula asked him, looking him over.

"Fine," Henry said, catching his breath. "Just according to plan, right?"

One of Ursula's long, purple tentacles stroked Maleficent's head, just behind her horns, as if she were Pongo. "Seems you and Mal were right, the beetles made their move on the market once they were certain the dragon was out of the way."

"So, you were right when you said they could sense you?" Henry asked, directing the question up at Maleficent's huge head.

She nodded, and lowered her eye to beside him. Her snout nudged him, and she bared her sharp teeth in a predatory smile.

"You made good time after the signal," Ursula said, still rubbing Maleficent's scaled head. "And you, Henry, you stayed on."

Henry accepted the praise with a grin. Mal was right that dragon riding had no comparison, and when the rush of adrenaline faded, maybe how dangerous the whole situation had been would settle in. He still wasn't sure that his mothers had been briefed on the entire plan before Maleficent had put it into action, but he couldn't argue with their success. After a few minutes of torching the stragglers, all the beetles had been burnt.

Maleficent's presence in the centre of the vortex made the air around her seem cooler, and more breathable. Henry wasn't sure what kind of magic that was, but something about her seemed to keep the thick ash and stench of the beetles at bay. She remained in dragon form, watching as Granny, David, Mulan and the others made sure they were safe. Once they relayed that to Ursula, she smiled up at Maleficent and spoke again in that strange language. He had to find out what it was, because he felt the power in the words.

Mal nodded, bobbing her horns before the smoke returned and she shrank back to herself. Smiling at Henry, she reached for him, and hugged him close. She was much taller than either of his moms, and the scent of bonfire lingered on her as she held him tight.

"You were brave," she said, glowing with pride. "I didn't give you much time-"

"You didn't give me any time," he interrupted and Mal smirked.

"You didn't need it," she answered. "Now, I'm going to clear the ash, and we'll make sure everyone in the town is safe."

"How do you clear the ash?" he asked, following her towards the protective shield that still encircled them.

Mal lifted her hands and the ash and ground beetle shells rose from the pavement, creeping like an evil fog that first hovered, then bound itself into a mass, grey and still touched with power. Mal's smile was still on her face, and the predatory shine that her huge dragon eyes held was also still with her, but there was dark power in that ash.

Ursula raised her own hands and the cloud moved, heading out of town, towards the quarry at the edge of town. The wind she raised came off the sea, and the air smelt fresh again, like brine instead of death. When they were done, Storybrooke felt safe. He didn't have either of his mothers' sense of magic, but the relief was visible on the faces around him.

David and Mulan came to thank them, and Granny invited everyone back to the diner for drinks. She even teased Maleficent about helping with a barbeque, and it was easier to smile than it had been for a long time. Maybe, by the time his mothers came back, they'd have the town back in order. 

* * *

 

Sighing, she opened another file and Regina started to read. At first she'd worried that trying to read through everything Emma's old friend had given them in the car was just going to bring back her terrible nausea from the day before, but it hadn't. She and Emma had been careful today, and Emma kept making sure she ate, even if it was little things. Maybe having something in her stomach made those awful pills easier to handle, because she hadn't been nearly as miserable. Something was still off, because Emma was right, she still had a weak fever and she tired so quickly. Emma had done all of the driving because she kept nodding off. Emma didn't mind, and they hadn't needed to pull over so she could vomit, so it was already a much superior day.

Outside the Bug, the tall buildings around them and the huge river beneath the last bridge was apparently their destination. This was Minneapolis, and that was where Lily had been found. It was all alien when she looked out the window. Not as big as New York, but just as unfamiliar. Lily was from their world, she didn't belong here, surrounded by glass, concrete, and strangers.

"There's a note here about Lilith Page," Regina said, looking up at Emma. "Her teacher wrote that she needed to be medicated for her ADHD in order to be a successful student."

"Yeah," Emma said, keeping her eyes on the traffic. "That happens a lot out here."

"She was nine," Regina replied, shaking her head. "No nine year old wants to pay attention in a classroom for hours without being properly instructed, which she obviously wasn't." Storybrooke's school had always been well funded, staffed by teachers that she respected (even Snow was good with children). The school in this realm were woefully lacking on many fronts. "This says Lily was also treated for anxiety, night terrors and showed classic symptoms of attachment disorder."

"That's also common for adopted kids, especially anyone who was in the system," Emma said, and the old sorrow in her voice made Regina's heart ache.

"She was adopted when she was three weeks old," she said, holding the file open. "How could she develop this attachment disorder as an infant?"

"No one knows," Emma said, shrugging. "Some adopted kids never feel like they fit. My friend, the one I told you about, never felt like her parents were really her parents, even though they seemed to really care about her."

"This file is appalling," Regina said, setting it down on her lap. "Henry never went through any of this."

Emma smiled and her eyes flicked over to Regina. "Henry had you."

"Lily's adoptive parents have an excellent recommendation. They're financially stable, emotionally mature, with a stable relationship and good friends. They're a model example of an adoptive couple, but Lily's file just gets worse. Her teachers write that she's intelligent but unmotivated, imaginative but lacks direction. This one wrote that her drawings are very good but she should have been doing her math homework." Letting the file shut, Regina rubbed her forehead. "Everything in here suggests that she was miserable, and of course she was, she's a dragon living without her powers in a world where she never should have existed."

"Hey, that's not your fault." Emma pulled them up to a stoplight and reached over to quickly squeeze Regina's hand. "None of that is your fault."

"It is," Regina reminded her, shutting her eyes. "If I'd been different--"

"Then we wouldn't have Henry," Emma said, her voice as gentle as her hand. "We wouldn't be here. What Lily went through was awful, and it wasn't your fault. We can't change the past, but we can bring her home, let her meet Maleficent, and you, and she can be totally spoiled by her crazy dragon mom and her just as crazy human one, okay?"

Forcing her tears away, Regina nodded. "Okay."

"I'm going to stop, we'll get coffee, I just passed a place," Emma made a few turns and then parked, giving Regina some time to compose herself. She shut off the car and turned to Regina. Emma only looked at her for a moment before her arms were around her.

"Why did this happen?" Regina asked, even though she knew the answer would never be enough. "She should have been with Maleficent, learning to fly and chewing on shields, driving her mother insane. Mal would have understood her, and they would have been happy. Instead, she's here, in this horrible place and she must have been so lost--"

Emma nodded, and held her shoulder. "You know that people can get lost in their own world, too."

"But she would have had a chance," Regina protested, reaching for Emma's arm. "Nothing in her life was ever right because she didn't belong here, she never did, and that must have been so terrible."

Emma's warm mouth kissed away her tears, because she understood. It wasn't just Lily who had grown up in the wrong world and been lost. Emma had been lost too and seeing what the people who should have cared for Lily wrote about her, dredged up all Regina's old guilt.

"Regina," Emma murmured, resting their foreheads together. "You know that you can be lost with your parents, or without them, and exactly what it's like to be that alone. I know it, and yeah, wherever she is, Lily does too, but that doesn't mean that things can't be better now. I never thought I'd have a home, a real home, but now I know what that feels like, because I have Henry, and my parents, and you, and yeah, a hell of a lot of bad happened before I got here, but I'm here, we're here, and I can't accept that this isn't good, or exactly where we're supposed to be, because-"

She leaned in, ready to kiss her if Emma didn't want to finish. Regina knew how hard it was to say what was so obvious in Emma's green eyes and Emma needed to know that she didn't have to say it; Regina knew.

Emma stroked her lips and smiled, staring right into her eyes. "I love you." Then she kissed her, taking the pain out of her chest and replacing it with something warm. When they pulled apart, Emma smiled and the way she wasn't afraid made Regina love her all the more. "I'll pay for parking, why don't you get us a table and you can criticise the system all you want over coffee."

Emma waited for her to get out, papers in hand, before she locked the car. Regina held the papers to her chest and headed down the sidewalk to the little cafe. It was down the stairs, in the basement of the office building, but it was warm and well-lit. The chairs didn't match each other and the music wasn't anything she recognised, but that was part of coffee shops, at least, that was what she'd gathered from stopping with Emma.

The woman behind the counter, a tall woman about Emma's age with thick, dark brown hair pulled back, and rich brown eyes, who seemed oddly familiar, smiled at her quickly over the hissing espresso machine. "Be right with you."

Regina pulled off her gloves and stared at the row of muffins, scones, cookies, and other pastries in the glass case. She tried to decide what Emma would want while she debated what she could stomach. Emma would have coffee, but she'd have to drink tea, just to be safe.

"Peppermint tea, a latte and a blueberry scone, please, and that-" Regina pointed to the ridiculous marshmallow and crisped rice cube bigger than her fist. It looked like the least healthy thing in the case, which was exactly what Emma would want.

"The rice crispy bar?" the barista asked, smiling more sincerely.

"Yes, thank you." Regina handed over her money and accepted the plates. As the barista held them up, Regina caught a glimpse of a marking, like a star, on her wrist. It was too irregular to be a tattoo, but it was a very strange birthmark. Seeing it bothered her, as if she was missing something.

Taking their treats to the table, she took off her coat and settled down to wait for Emma. She paged through the folders, looking at the pictures of Lily that Emma's contact had found. Lily had been a cute little girl, with deep, soulful brown eyes and a sad smile that made her chest ache all over again. It was one of the baby pictures that made her pause. Baby Lily had her hand up, by her head and on her right wrist was the same birthmark, just like a star.

Staring at the old photo, Regina wasn't paying any attention when Emma walked in and sat down next to her, nor did she acknowledge whatever Emma said, she just stared at the picture before she lifted it up.

Emma waited for her to speak, confused but smiling, as the barista brought over their drinks. The woman with the mark, the mark exactly like Lily's, set down the tea and was about to put the latte in front of her when Regina stood up in shock. Emma reached to catch the drink and Regina just stood there as the mug tipped and hot latte spilt all over her and the barista.

Too stunned to even move, Regina stared at her wrist, then at the woman's. She had Mal's cheekbones, didn't she? And her lips were so much like Regina's own, and her nose... Slowly, the flash of pain from the hot coffee cut through Regina's surprise and she winced.

"Sorry, sorry," the barista, Lily, _she was Lily_ , said. She didn't wince. Hot coffee was just as much on her and she didn't even seem to feel it. Just like Maleficent, who never burned, no matter what she touched.

"Don't worry about it," Emma said, speaking for Regina because she couldn't find words. "Do you have a towel?"

"Yeah, just a sec." She left them, heading behind the counter while Regina stood there, dripping onto the floor.

"Emma."

Grabbing a napkin, Emma started wiping Regina's arm. "Are you okay? That was hot and it's all over you."

"Emma," she whispered more urgently, ignoring the way her arm stung. "She's here, that's her, _she's_ Lily."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily takes Emma and Regina back to her home, then the three of them head back to Storybrooke so Mal and Lily can be reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your patience and all your lovely comments. huge thanks again to race and wapwani, you two are the best. 
> 
> Lily is my own version, and she's canon divergent, especially what happened with her adoptive parents. Regina also didn't drink the infertility potion (from ep 4x20) in this story (because I didn't know about it when I started writing.) Make of that what you will. ;)

Emma pushed up Regina's wet sleeve, exposing the angry red on her arm where her skin protested the hot liquid. Lily, Maleficent's daughter, the daughter who'd been lost all her life, came back with a cold, damp towel and pressed it against Regina's arm.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to stand up," Lily said, meeting Regina's eyes. "Good thing it was the coffee not your tea though."

"Yes," Regina answered, without know why she'd said it. She looked desperately at Emma, needing her to speak because she couldn't trust her own voice.

"It's fine, I think she's just startled," Emma said, taking over holding the towel against Regina's arm. She too looked at Regina, then met Lily's eyes. "Thanks."

"I'll get you another drink," Lily said, looking between them as if something had made her wonder.

Emma sat down across from Regina, urging her to sit, and she laid her arm on the table, still holding the towel against it. It didn't really hurt, and Regina was sure it would be fine, but it was easier to let Emma worry about it, to stare at her reddened skin, than to stare at Lily. The coffee shop was quiet, an elderly woman read the paper over her pot of tea, and a few others worked on their laptops on the far side of the room. No one paid them any attention while Lily got the mop and cleaned the floor.

She returned with a latte, carefully avoiding Regina's side of the table, and set it in front of Emma, who thanked her, because Emma had more control over her shock.

"You saw the mark on her wrist," Regina whispered, staring at Emma. "It's just like the one in her file."

Emma's eyes went wide, and she let go of Regina's arm and the towel, then picked up the folder. She paged through until she reached the pictures of young Lily, then dropped it. "I know her."

"Yes, it's her," Regina insisted, trying not to stare at Lily while she talked to another customer.

"No, this Lily, she's my friend. I mean, she was my friend, when I was younger, the one I told you about," Emma said, keeping her voice low, but now she stared over Regina, watching Lily make drinks behind the espresso machine.

"Your friend Lily is- was- is Mal's daughter?" her voice cracked as she whispered. Regina shook her head, of course she was. Fate, or whatever it was that had a hand in all of their lives, had brought her Emma's son, and that power had drawn Emma and Lily together, even across this realm.

"She's older, I guess we're both are," Emma said softly, and she took her gaze away from Lily, looking at Regina. "She's wearing the same necklace. I didn't see it until she was mopping the floor."

Regina leaned closer, nearly resting her head against Emma's shoulder. "What do we do?"

"Drink your tea," Emma said, taking the map of the city out of her pocket. The paper map was out of place because everyone used their phones, but Emma had bought it because it might be useful. Now Emma used it as an excuse, pointing at places that meant nothing. "We don't want to frighten her."

"How do we even talk to her?"

"Carefully," Emma said. "Look at the map, take a few deep breaths. We know where she works. We'll sit for awhile and see if she has the time to talk to use. I'll ask her a question about the city."

Turning her hand, Regina grabbed Emma's free one beneath the table and held it, tight. "You know her, what was she like?" She had to know something, anything, because this woman was her daughter and she knew so little.

"Sad," Emma whispered, pointing at another part of the map as if it meant something. "She had a lot of issues with her adoptive parents. Told me they kicked her out, but I don't think that was it. The last time I saw her we were both in a group home and they were making her attend the grief counselling sessions. Something might have happened to her parents, they usually don't make you go to those unless you've had something pretty bad."

Regina's eyes stung, and she leaned closer to Emma, because she didn't know how to possibly explain that looking at a map would have that kind of emotional impact. She hid her eyes, leaning close. Emma ran her hand over hers, trying to calm her.

"Maybe she's happier now, hopefully her life's improved." Emma's optimism was sweet, and appreciated, but Regina knew in her gut that Lily's life would be empty, lacking. Emma hadn't been happy, couldn't have been out in this world, away from her family. Lily would have known a similar misery, never fitting, never belonging, perhaps never even trusting that her adoptive parents loved her. Remembering when Henry had pulled away, Regina's heart twisted. Her daughter had been so alone, even with a family. How could they bring her home? What would it take to help her feel loved? How could they make her safe?

When she looked up again, Lily was gone and a different woman stood behind the counter. Panic rose cold in her stomach. "Where?"

"She's on her break," Emma said, easing the knot in Regina's throat. "She went outside, I'll go." She kissed Regina's forehead, trying to soften her concern. "Drink your tea."

Staring at the green liquid, she thought of Henry, and how hard she'd worked to make sure he was loved. He knew that, he'd doubted her, but he knew now. What had Lily and her parents gone through? What had happened without her there? Emma had brought Henry back, helped bring them closer. Lily had no one. She hadn't trusted her adoptive parents, hadn't trusted her teachers, hadn't ever felt like she was home.

Emma understood that. She'd reach her, and bring Lily back. That was what Emma did, finding those who were lost.  
<hr>

Emma followed her outside and around the back when Lily went out for a cigarette. She'd seen that coming, Emma would want to talk to her, alone, where no one was watching. She had to be her, Emma Swan: her only friend, who'd apparently grown up well and got a hot girlfriend who had expensive taste in clothes, but seemed nice. She was probably an angel, because Emma had that kind of luck. At least, maybe now she did. She'd been pretty pissed the last time they'd seen each other. Lily was ready to run, bolt, tell her job that her abusive ex had turned up and she just had to go. It didn't matter if they didn't believe her, there was always another minimum wage job. She knew how to make coffee now, that was pretty practical. She'd find another job doing that, easy.

But Emma wasn't pissed. She even smiled a little, and it was so easy to see her how she'd been, years ago. Her face was older, her hair was longer, but her eyes were the same.

"Are you going to tell me to quit?" Lily asked, taking a drag of her cigarette. Emma, of course, wouldn't smoke, but she didn't look judgemental.

"Would you listen?" Emma teased, leaning on the wall next to her.

"Depends on who's telling me," she replied, and for some reason that made Emma smile.

"A friend?"

Lily shook her head, but she had to return Emma's smile. "I'll think about it."

"Good," Emma said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It would be nice if you were around for awhile. I know some people who are waiting to meet you."

Stubbing her cigarette out, she dropped it into the trash. "Did you get converted or something, join a happy cult? Twelve step programme?"

"You wouldn't believe me." Emma offered her a hand back up to her feet.

Lily took it, and Emma's hand was strong, like she remembered. "You'll have to show me?" she asked, too afraid to hope. No one wanted her. She didn't have a criminal record, nothing that had stuck, anyway. She didn't have an exes who knew where to find her. No one would be looking for her.

Emma's smile faded, and her green eyes got that sympathetic look. The one that came before pain. "I can, if you want."

"What?"

Taking out her phone, Emma tapped it, and then held it, waiting. "Someone asked me to find you."

"Like who?" Lily asked, rubbing her hands against her jeans. "The Tooth Fairy?"

"Taller," Emma said. Her phone chirped, and she nodded to herself. "You told me, once, a long time ago, that you remembered what your birth mother looked like."

Shaking her head and walking away, Lily wished there was anywhere she could go away from Emma, but the little alley was small, and her only escape would be back into the shop. "I was stupid. She abandoned me as an infant. I can't possibly remember."

"You drew pictures of her," Emma continued, taking a step closer to her without being menacing. "You showed me. They were good pictures, and you had them everywhere. Her eyes, her hands, the way she smiled."

"She's not real, okay?" Lily closed the distance between them, and to her surprise, now she looked down at Emma, when the last time they'd been that close, she'd been taller. "She's something I made up, something I convinced myself that I remembered because I wanted to have a connection. I spent years in therapy and took a lot of pills to be able to say that. You'd know that if you'd stuck around, been my friend, like you said you would."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, and dammit, Lily wanted to believe her. "I'm sorry for more than I can tell you. A lot more, but for now, look at this picture and tell me you don't recognise this woman. If you don't, I'll go. I won't bother you, but I think she's your birth mother."

"I don't know what you're on, or what kind of whack-job cult you've joined--" Lily began, trying to push past Emma, because being in the cafe and looking like an idiot was better than breaking down in an alley. Her birth mother was a fantasy, something her mind had come up with to try and cope with her fear of rejection, of abandonment, and the death of her adoptive parents. She didn't have a mother; she had no one.

"Hey, hey," Emma said, catching her arm. "Have I ever lied to you?"

She hadn't. She wouldn't. Emma Swan was the kind of heroic idiot that only lived in fairy tales. She was too good, by far, so she shouldn't have been here, not promising what couldn't be- but might be- true. Lily's thoughts warred with possibilities: no one loved her, her mother was a bitter trick of Lily's battered mind, and Emma didn't lie to her. Emma didn't hurt her, not until she fucked things up first. She wasn't entirely sure what trust was like, but if she were to trust anyone, she'd pick Emma.

Emma said she had a mother. She promised. Her mother was right there, on Emma's phone, and all she had to do was look at the screen. She couldn't look, of course she couldn't. Lily knew no one loved her, no one wanted her, and those who had: died.

"Just look at her, if you don't know her, I'll go."

Lily wanted to beg her to stay, which was ridiculous, because Emma didn't live here. She had a life, somewhere with her pretty girlfriend, and she'd get back to it. Lily would get back to her stupid job and her empty house and waiting for her life to quietly pass, while everyone else lived. She didn't fit with people, so she stayed out of the way, let them get on with it. It had worked, sort of, she didn't annoy anyone, no one got close and she didn't lose anyone, not how she'd lost her parents.

What if she didn't know her? What if the memory she'd clung to all of her life was wrong? Her mind came up with a hundred reason why this too would end in pain, but Lily reached for the phone. She'd always been too impulsive, too much of an idiot just to give up hope, and this time--

She looked at the kid first. Brown hair, green eyes, growing into his face, and wise looking, like he knew more than he'd say. He leaned in close to the woman, who looked into the camera in confusion, like she was surprised, or unsure what he was doing. She was beautiful, almost aristocratic, or ethereal, like she'd walked out of a story. Which she had, because she couldn't exist. Those blue eyes couldn't be that colour, that shade, and her mouth, it couldn't-- She couldn't exist. She couldn't be.

She started to drop the phone, and Emma went for it, but Lily clutched it to her chest, terrified of losing this woman like a mirage. She wasn't, couldn't, but she was there, captured on the screen. The kid had a little smile, and he pointed at the camera. She- her mother- was looking at the camera for him, because he wanted her too. Lily clung to the phone, even as her tears marred the picture. The screen shut itself off, taking the picture away, but she was already seared into Lily's memory. She'd always been there. Her mother was a dream, a nightmare, a ghost of what might have been, but she'd been there, with the kid, and the sun behind them in a kitchen. She wasn't above her in the darkness, wrapped in light, how she always was in Lily's memory. This was real, now, somewhere, real, and Emma knew. Emma had spoken to her, let herself be sent.

Emma knew her mother.

Emma knew--

And Emma held her tight when her legs had forgotten how to stand.

* * *

 

Emma's pretty girlfriend, the one who dressed as if she'd walked out of a fashion spread, even on a road trip, smoothed everything over. She explained something to Lily's boss, kept her from being fired, and then sat in the passenger seat, coaxing directions for them to Lily's house while Emma drove.

Lily knew where she lived, she did, but it didn't matter. Her mother was real, and she was out there, with the kid, Henry. Emma's son, that she shared with Regina, was sitting with her mother right now, across the country, in a kitchen in Maine. They had just finished dinner and were washing up.

Regina spoke easily while Emma drove, calm and collected as she talked about Storybrooke, their tiny town, and what Lily's mother, Mal, her mother, and Henry would be doing. Her mother didn't cook much, but she liked to grill, so Henry and her had barbecued twice already this week. Regina talked about it all so easily, as if it was something that happened every day. Lily's mother had a name, spent time with people, talked and laughed and got along with Henry.

Lily's mind took in facts that she couldn't acknowledge: Henry was fourteen, which meant Emma must have had him young, maybe too young, but they were together now, and Regina loved the kid. They worked together and took care of their little town and were happy. Stupidly happy, by the way they looked at each other, and Emma reached for Regina's knee whenever she sounded sad. Which she did, a lot, because everything Lily said about her tragic, empty little life, got to her. That didn't make any sense, because they'd just met, but maybe Regina felt things in a way Emma and Lily didn't, couldn't, because they'd been abandoned too many times to allow themselves that kind of vulnerability.

They pulled into the driveway of Connie and Carlos, her parents' house, and it sat there, big and empty behind a few trees. It always looked empty. Lily had tried leaving some lights on when she came home, but she knew they were fake, so she let it be dark. It was a big, grand old house, nice porch, plenty of bedrooms that had never been used. Carlos and Connie Page had wanted several kids, once, then they got Lily and she was so much trouble that they never had another, so the rooms were empty. One had a piano that Lily had never really learned to play, there was Connie's office, Carlos's painting room, Lily's play room and her room. None of the rooms ever really served their purpose. Connie had to do her work at work, because home was too stressful. Carlos barely got to paint because Lily always needed help with her homework, to be picked up from detention, or dropped off at yet another therapist who could rid her of the notion of her beautiful birth mother, her sad eyes and soft blonde hair.

Connie and Carlos had both had brown hair, Connie's was nearly black, and brown eyes and they had looked so much more like Lily than the her dream of her mother. They had been good people, had been kind, patient caregivers, but the voice in the back of her mind that insisted, more than anything, that she knew her mother and Connie wasn't her, had ruined it. Lily tried to forget about the idea, bury it, forget her mother, but doing that only made her more miserable, and that meant she had to take different pills, more pills, and try something else, maybe a different school-- So she'd been quiet, never mentioned her mother, she drew and doodled and told herself stories on scraps of paper. She hid them, burned her journals, because they wanted to be her parents so badly that she had to let them. She went through the motions, called them 'mom and dad', smiled, talked about college, and then they'd gone camping, because families did that. It was great: for two nights she didn't dream of her mother, didn't wake up panting and sweating because her mother was gone, and on the third, she'd woken up in the hospital, surrounded by very concerned, kind people who did their best to tell her that it wasn't her fault that her parents were dead.

Freak electrical storm, irresponsible other campers, one poorly extinguished cigarette, and a forest fire destroyed what they'd been trying to build together. The people who wanted so desperately to be her parents burned to death, a few feet away, probably trying to save her, while she slept through it and woke up unscarred. Maybe it had been wet under her tent, or perhaps the wind, or the way it was in a hollow of the ground. She didn't even have a mark on her skin, and they were dead.

She inherited the house, their insurance, their retirement funds, her college fund: everything they'd built to give to her came early, and the state held it, because she was too young and she bounced from group home to group home, tried to finish high school because if she just did that, maybe they'd leave her alone. That was a low enough bar that she could cross it, and just get a job and disappear. Live in her big, empty house and work for terrible money because she didn't need it. She could have gone to a nice university, been someone, studied something more than how to make a good cocktail and what kind of business people wanted which kind of bartender to hand them their martini. Lily never did, because going to university would have been a waste of their money and the university's time because she'd never amount to anything. Her life was a placeholder, marking time until her unimportant death.

She'd thought Emma understood that, hated her like everyone else, but she didn't. Emma Swan, perfectly wonderful Emma, had found her to bring her to her mother. Lily fumbled with her own keys and finally had to hand them to Emma because her hands shook. Regina touched her back, so lightly that someone else wouldn't have noticed, but Lily touched, and was touched, so rarely that her body vibrated as if she'd been struck. Except, this was nice. Regina's hand was steadying.

She and Emma said the right nice things about the house, and Carlos had chosen beautiful, bright paintings to be on the walls, and the furniture was still kind of new because Lily dusted and vacuumed more than she used any of it it. The kitchen was so empty that Regina emerged from it with tears in her eyes. Connie had all the nice stuff that made food: graters and peelers, a spice rack, and she knew what everything did, told stories with her hands while she threw spices in. All the spices were probably too old to use, because Lily dusted the rack and their little wooden lids, but she didn't cook with them. She had cereal, toast, oatmeal, sandwiches from the shop down the road, leftovers, pizza, chinese, anything that came into the house ready to eat or required no more effort than heating up.

Carlos and Connie had loved cooking. They stood in the kitchen, talking and drinking wine, trying to draw her in and involved her in the blissful dance that made their food. She'd tried, and she'd started to understand some of it, the smell of onions in hot oil, chiles stinging her fingertips, and noise, because Connie always filled the kitchen with music and laughter. Then they were gone, taken, and the kitchen went quiet and cold.

Lily used the microwave, sometimes the stove, and the rest of it existed, caught in limbo because Lily didn't make life with her food, didn't bring light into the house. Lily just was, but her parents, they'd lived.

And died.

She'd had more than ten years to try and reconcile that, make sense of the way that the people she'd finally started to love in return, left. Like her mother had left. She'd been snatched by someone, taken from her mother, from that sad, beautiful face. Then death took her parents, and left her again: alone, unwanted, and alive, which felt like the greater tragedy.

Emma and Regina talked in whispers, then Emma touched her face, because they were like that, like her parents had been. Like Lily never was, even when she wanted desperately to be in love. Then Regina took the car keys and Emma went over the map one more time and Regina left, driving to the grocery store because there wasn't food in the house. Lily would have just gotten something delivered; because she had most of the menus committed to memory, but Regina wanted to cook. She'd give life to Lily's ghostly kitchen, if only for a night.

Which left Emma, who stood in her hallway, hands in her pockets. "She's a good cook."

"Anyone's better than me," Lily said, heading into the kitchen just long enough to grab the scotch. She took two glasses as well and led Emma through the unused living room (sometimes she watched TV, but just to have voices in the house). "I still keep all my stuff in my room. I don't have to, I know no one's going to see it, but it feels wrong, somehow, having pictures of her in my parents' house. I mean, they weren't--"

"Maybe they were your parents, if they felt like it" Emma said, following her up the quiet stairs. "Blood doesn't make families."

Nodding, Lily let her into the spare bedroom that had become her cave. She'd kept it locked while her parents were alive, and they hadn't pushed her, maybe because they knew that this was something she needed. They didn't need to see, and they did her the courtesy of not asking.

Emma didn't need to ask. She knew the drawings when Lily turned on the lights. Recognition made her eyes soft, and her lips opened in surprise. She knew Lily's mother. Knew the hundreds of version of her face that Lily couldn't stop drawing. She'd seen her eyes, held her hands, touched her skin and heard her voice.

Lifting one of Lily's drawings, Emma stared at the paper, and the many more beneath it. "How many times have you drawn her?"

"I couldn't get her eyes right, I mean, I couldn't even draw, but I kept trying." She shrugged, looking down at the charcoal, the pencil; all the different mediums she'd used to try and get the image of her mother out of her head. "It got easier, I got better. I finally managed to make some of them look like her."

Sorting through her drawings, Emma nodded, looking at one, then another. She finally looked up, smiling. "You got good."

Lily's face went hot. "Not really."

"I've seen your mother smile like this," Emma said, choosing one of the charcoal drawings from the far side of the table. "How did you know what she looked like?"

"She's in my head," Lily said, staring down and trying not to feel like an idiot, though she did. "I know I shouldn't know, that I can't possibly remember, but I see her. Once I started drawing her, it was better. I could sleep. I used to come in here and imagine she was smiling at me. Maybe she did."

Emma's hand rested on her shoulder, and Lily's eyes stung. She hated herself for showing any sign of weakness, always had, but she couldn't lock herself down in front of Emma. Emma knew how she felt. She'd been there, been that lost. Emma understood.

"She loves you, your mom loves you so much that she--" Emma stopped and whatever she bit back hurt her. "She would give anything to be here."

Her chest was sore, heavy and she tried to smile. "What, she doesn't do road trips?"

"Something like that," Emma replied. She lay the drawing back down and brought her eyes to meet Lily's. "I can't tell you now. I wish I could but-"

"But?"

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Lily wiped her eyes. "You've seen my life. Big empty house, dead end job, don't have any friends, I can barely keep a houseplant alive. If there's a point to my life, I think I've missed it."

Emma touched her arms, holding her almost close, almost like a friend. No one held her, no one even touched her, because she wasn't important. She was no one's family. When she'd tried, really tried: she'd failed. People who got close to her got hurt. "Your mother loves you and has been waiting all your life to see you. Believe me. I know it sounds crazy. My kid, the kid I gave up so he could have a better life, showed up at my apartment one night, and I thought he was crazy, and I was crazy for following him, for hoping, but I met my parents, I met Henry and Regina. I have a family." She paused, smiling with the kind of hope Lily never allowed herself. "You have a family, and I'm going to bring you home." 

* * *

 

Already in her pyjamas, Regina crawled into the blankets in Lily's guest room while Emma brushed her teeth. They'd eaten dinner together in a strange, almost family manner. Lily was funny, shy, and so very hungry as she watched Regina and Emma talk. Her eyes followed them as if she had been starving and they offered her food. She watched them touch as if she'd been alone for such a long time that she'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone's hand on hers. When Emma did the dishes, Lily had sat on the counter, watching with scotch in her hand as Emma and Regina talked about nothing important. They spoke of Henry, of Emma's baby brother and how he'd started crawling on his belly. Lily had an odd look on her face when she realised that Emma's brother was so much younger than her, but she didn't ask. Maybe she didn't want to ruin whatever spell she was under.

Regina tried not to push, not to be too curious, but as they ate, Lily opened her life. She lived alone, didn't have much for friends, worked because it kept her busy and sometimes drew other people, or landscapes. Her hobbies were solitary ones, and the way she looked at Emma when she smiled-- Regina knew loneliness with the intimacy of an old lover. She'd been empty, isolated, far from everyone who cared about her because she'd pushed them all away, never let them in.

Holding back her tears all through dinner gave her a headache, and Emma and Lily shared scotch while Regina drank tea and tried not to think about the misery her daughter had lived through. After a few drinks. Lily brought Regina up to her room full of drawings and she had cried, because Lily had seen so many parts of Mal, as if she knew her. Somehow, having only seen her with an infant's eyes, Lily had captured her hands and the softness of her smile when she was truly happy. Maybe she had been, holding her daughter, before she was taken.

The knot in her stomach was worse than nausea tonight, because it was emotion, not those damn pills, that churned beneath her chest. Lily had been so loved, but lost her parents twice over and she needed to be loved so badly now that it was all Regina could do not to hold her and cry into her shoulder. Lily wasn't Henry. She couldn't make this easier with a spell, or take away the fear in her heart. Mal loved their daughter, and she'd make it work, because she'd been waiting for her for decades. Regina had only know of her existence for a few months: how could she begin to fill the void in Lily's life? She needed to know she was safe, that she could let herself love without knowing that the people she cared about would be lost. These were hard lessons; Regina had only just started to hope that anyone but Henry could love her unconditionally when dragon fire burned away her doubts.

Emma loved her, and that was as true as the blood in her veins. They'd built a family, a strange one with a dragon and their little prince and Emma's parents, but it was theirs. That family could accept Lily too; bring her in. Regina pulled the blankets closer, curling into a ball as she tried to warm up. Emma crawled in next to her, and her warmth made the bed immediately more habitable. She wrapped herself around Regina, her arms on her stomach and the trembling Regina had held so tightly inside began to fade.

"It's okay," Emma whispered, kissing the back of her neck. "It's okay."

Clinging to Emma's arms, she pressed her body against the warmth of Emma's chest and the familiar gentle sound of her breathing filled Regina's ears. "Why is she so alone?"

"Because she doesn't fit here, and she knows it." Emma stroked Regina's hair, settling it on her shoulders. "I think it was the same for me. I knew I was different, deep down, and I stayed apart, Neal was the only one who--" she paused, searching for words as she continued to toy with Regina's hair. "He was the only one who felt right, like a real person, until Henry brought me home."

Holding Emma's hand tight against her chest, Regina allowed herself to hope that it would be the same for Lily. She'd be home in Storybrooke, with her family. Like Emma, she might finally start to feel complete.

Emma's lips pressed warm against the back of her neck and Regina shivered, but that was almost pleasant.

"You're cold again, aren't you?"

Regina nodded, rolling over to face Emma because she wanted to kiss her, and lose herself in the warmth of her mouth, just for awhile. "I don't know what it is."

"Did your curse come with vaccinations?" Emma teased, stroking her cheek. "Maybe I've taken you out of Storybrooke into the wide world and exposed you to all kinds of terrible things."

Regina shut her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Your skin's warm and you feel cold," Emma reminded her with a remarkably apt impression of Regina's sternest maternal tone.

"Yes, I am aware of what constitutes a fever," Regina retorted, kissing Emma's cheek. "It's mild. It's most likely a cold virus that hasn't made its way to Storybrooke. I'll bring it back and give it to everyone."

"Won't that be fun," Emma teased. Her hand ran over Regina's stomach, then gently across her breast.

Regina's breath caught in her throat and she slid closer, letting Emma's leg between her own. When Emma kissed her again, it was because she needed to feel her mouth, to focus on the taste of her. It was easier to breath when she shared the same air with Emma; her hands against Regina's skin were the first thing to feel warm. Kissing her back, Regina let herself melt against Emma's mouth. Emma's hands roamed easily over her silky pyjamas, slipping inside her top before she undid the buttons.

Emma sat up just long enough to pull off her t-shirt, then snuggled in beneath the blankets again. Being near her skin had the same comforting heat as the hearth. Emma was her safety. Out here, Emma meant home. Just being held would have been enough, and Emma's gentle lips brought warmth that Regina didn't seem to be capable of generating on her own. Then Emma's hands wandered, dropped between her thighs, and she needed to be touched.

They were in Lily's house, down the hall in the guest bedroom that hadn't been used in years. They'd wash the sheets, they'd be quiet: Regina tried to rationalise it to herself. Then she remembered Graham in her bed while Henry slept down the hall. Lily was her daughter and Emma was basically her step-mother and the confusing mess of their family would have to be drawn in a chart to make sense, yet she didn't have guilt for wanting Emma right now. She felt whole.

Easing Emma's leg over her own while she slid beneath, Regina returned her kisses, sighing against Emma's neck. She wasn't sure if it was wanting or needing that held her so tightly to Emma, but softness of her skin against Regina's own calmed the rushing of her thoughts. Lily would be safe in Storybrooke.

How strange it was that their little cursed town was their refuge now. Instead of being a land of darkness, it was their home. Regina kissed her again, burying her worries in Emma's sighs of pleasure. Emma's thigh rubbed up between her own, making heat that chased the cold from her bones. She'd been so cold before, while Emma brushed her teeth. That chill was a memory now, because Emma was on her, against her, and her hands left trails of heat behind them. Regina's own hands lingered on Emma's breasts, cupping, stroking, then slipping down her stomach. She let her hands rest on Emma's lower back, tugging her closer, because Emma was already sliding down Regina's pyjama bottoms. The firm skin of Emma's thigh brushed against the wet heat of Regina's sex, sliding against her. She gasped, surprised that such an indistinct pressure could make her squirm so. Slipping her own fingers between Emma's thighs and up, she earned a sudden gasp and that half-drunk smile of Emma's. Regina ran her fingers ever so gently across, collecting the slick wetness of Emma on them before she circled her clit.

Nibbling her ear, then her neck, Emma toyed with her labia, working her way slowly in until Regina's hips were tilted up towards her, begging that her fingers go deeper. Emma entered her slowly, teasing with just the tip of one finger, then two, then letting them slide within with an aching lack of speed. Emma kept her fingers still, then curled them, pressing up, pulling out. By the time the heel of Emma's hand hit Regina's clit, she moaned, rocking up into her hand, wanting more. Running her thumb over Emma's clit was her revenge, but Emma held together better, smiled more through the building heat. When she was weak, Regina couldn't resist Emma, couldn't hold back, and Emma knew it. She teased her in turn, but Emma had a control Regina lacked, maybe something Emma had taken from her. Emma's fingers denied her more than they allowed release, and Emma's lips on her breast made her cry out. Moaning in Emma's ear, whispering her name, that did more for Emma than all of Regina's teasing fingers. It was the sweetest, sappiest things, Regina's muttered declarations of breathless affection, that made Emma's knees buckle.

Using her thumb, Emma flicked across Regina's clit, rubbing across its slick surface, pressing harder, until Regina shuddered beneath her. Moving to look into her eyes, Emma stared down at her, possessing her utterly, starting with her eyes. She moaned, then gasped for breath, Emma was careful to let up just long enough, before her fingers were back, slipping deep within, curling, rubbing, making her chest ache. Instead of loss, she could be consumed with joy, with Emma--

Her own fingers were clumsy, and Emma ground her clit against Regina's palm, removing the need for Regina to be aware of what she was doing. Emma pushed, taking her up and over until she tingled all over. Clutching Emma to her, she brought her to orgasm before her own had faded. Emma's breathing, irregular but familiar, carried her through as she became too sensitive to be touched. Emma's hands rested on her belly, then stroked her neck, easing her down. Emma kissed her, taking her time to run her tongue across her lips, to taste and explore. Regina's heart raced, and slowed. Emma's green eyes hung above her, dark and satiated. She held her close, her hands stroking lazily across Regina's stomach until long after Regina fell asleep.

* * *

 

After the first day, Emma and Lily split most of the driving between themselves. Regina didn't mind driving, but her stomach wasn't reliable. Emma hated having her suffer, and Lily had driven long distances by herself. She and Emma had that much in common. They listened to the radio, sometimes Emma and Regina talked of home, of Henry and Maleficent. They didn't dare call her by her first name, or say much out of the ordinary. By their third day of driving, Lily knew that her mother had been ill recently, and that for reasons they couldn't explain, she wasn't able to leave. Lily didn't trust them, not completely, and Emma didn't blame her at all.

Regina only threw up twice more, once off the interstate in Ohio, and once in Massachusetts that morning. She'd been close several times more, and though she promised Emma that the nausea was worse than actually vomiting, Emma wished she could have left Regina in Storybrooke, where at least she wouldn't have to spend three days in the car. The way Lily waited behind them, sympathetic and gentle, reminded Emma that she'd been a good friend and instead of being awkward with her along, it was oddly familiar, even comfortable. It was still mind-bending that Lily was somehow her friend, and her what? Niece on the dragon's side? Step-daughter? Emma had much time to wonder, because Lily drove most of the last day. Regina had fallen asleep after being sick, her head in Emma's lap on the back seat while Lily drove.

"You're good together, you know," Lily said, shifting her eyes to look at them in the rearview mirror. "You take good care of her. It's nice."

"Usually she's the one who has everything together," Emma replied, resting her hand on Regina's shoulder. "She was pretty exhausted before we left. I really shouldn't have brought her along."

Emma caught Lily's smirk in the mirror over her shoulder.

"Maybe I wouldn't have come with you. Regina's cooking abilities are a lot more persuasive than your promises of quiet, small town life," Lily joked. She flicked on the windshield wipers as the rain started to fall in earnest. As they crossed into Maine, the sky had darkened, going almost black even though it was barely late afternoon and as they made their way north, the rain had shifted from mist to downpour. The radio interrupted the music that none of them were listening to several times with a storm warning.

"Do you get tornados up here?" Lily asked, peered upwards. "Should we stop?"

Emma leaned forward, careful not to disturb Regina, and looked at the incredibly dark sky.  
"As far as I know, no tornados. If we stop, we'll be stuck. There's not much around here. Storybrooke's only fifteen more miles. Might as well keep going, get back and take shelter there."

"Must be nice to have a home," Lily said, slowing down as the rain and wind howled around them. "Someplace you're really attached to."

"Never thought I'd have one," Emma replied. Regina was still asleep, and she hated that it seemed like she'd need to wake her. Emma took her phone from her pocket and checked it. No signal. That wasn't surprising considering the way the hail began to streak down from the sky. It drummed on the roof of the Bug. Digging Regina's phone gently out of her pocket, she checked that too: also no signal.

"It's not bad here though, really. The weather's usually not-" and the lightning cut Emma off. Both of them winced from the boom of thunder that followed and Regina woke on Emma's lap. "Not anything like this."

"What's happening?" Regina asked, rubbing her eyes. "Why's the rain so loud?"

"I've never seen anything like this," Lily said, slowing down even more. The Bug crawled along in first gear, rain and hail pounding down on them.

"Regina?" Emma asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

Lightning flashed again, this time staining the sky green, if only for a moment. Regina swallowed hard, and Emma realised painfully that she was still sick to her stomach. Who knew how long it would take them to get back in this weather and she couldn't do anything for Regina.

"Ursula," Regina said, looking at Emma. They were so close to the line now that the hints of magic in the storm were visible, even through the thick trees.

"Is that the name of a hurricane?" Lily asked without taking her eyes from the road. "I haven't seen a sign for your town."

"It's not really on the map," Emma said. "There's a line, and after that a sign."

"That you--" Regina muttered and Emma glared at her.

"I hit it, once, so please don't."

Lily nodded, barely listening to them bicker because the sky was so dark that the lights of the Bug barely reached into the rain. "Is this a nor'easter? Whatever that is?"

"Sort of," Regina said, balling her fingers up. She missed her magic, because once they crossed the line, she could just teleport the Bug back home, grab Henry and Mal and take them into the basement until this blew over.

The radio relayed one more storm warning, then turned to static, crackling at them ominously until Lily shut it off. It was so dark that there was no way to know when they crossed the town line. Regina and Emma leaned forward, watching the road in front of them disappear into a black tunnel of rain and hail. The hailstones grew, hitting the car harder and cracking against the windshield. Regina checked her phone once more and then stuffed it in her pocket.

"Why would Ursula make a storm?" Emma asked, keeping her voice low enough that only Regina heard.

"She must be protecting the town," Regina answered, worry making her forehead tight. "Something must have happened. Maybe a fire? Mal's not good at fighting fires. She had to fight off fire imps once and she was so angry because she couldn't burn them, only swat them like big scaley flies."

Emma smiled a little, because Maleficent being all annoyed at something little she couldn't burn was kind of cute. She took Regina's hand and uncurled her fingers, making her own fit into them. "We're almost back. It'll be okay."

Emma shouldn't have worried about not seeing the town line, because all of them felt it. The air was heavier, thicker as they approached and the spray-painted line on the pavement, the nothing ahead of them was darker than anything she'd seen.

"Stop," Regina commanded, pulling the Snow Queen's scroll from her pocket. She read it, sharing it with Emma, then they passed it forward. "Look at this."

Lily took it, staring in confusion at the old runes. "I can't read that."

"You don't have to read it," Emma started to explain, then they felt it, the tugging, teasing hint of magic that waited for them beyond the line.

"Drive forward, slowly," Regina told Lily. "It'll make sense in a moment."

Trusting her because she didn't have another choice, Lily pulled them forward and over the line. Magic rushed back, filling Emma, bringing her senses back and her strength. She didn't realise how empty she'd been, how hollow, but now that she had magic again, she felt so much more.

Regina's head dropped, as if slipping back into magic was like going underwater. Whatever was bothering her hadn't gone away, if anything, it was worse, because she looked almost as green as the lightning.

Whatever Lily felt, she didn't have to time to process it. Once she stopped again, Regina teleported the Bug. Familiar purple smoke engulfed them and they appeared in the driveway of Regina's house.

"What the fuck-" Lily started, but Regina was already out of the car into the rain, looking for Henry.

"There's magic here," Emma said, wishing she could take more time to ease Lily into it. "I have it, and Regina, and your mom has a lot. You probably do to so don't wave your hands too much."

Lily shook her head then followed Emma and Regina out of the car. The rain and hail pelted down onto them and lightning and thunder cracked so often that it was heard to hear anything. "You're fucking with me."

"Believe me, or believe this is a really fucked up dream, either way, come with me."

Maybe the hail got her in the house as much as belief did, but Lily followed Emma in. Regina had already searched the house and met them in the foyer.

"They're not here."

"Okay," Emma said, trying to stay calm. "In a storm everyone's supposed to go to the school--"

Regina nodded, already lifting her hands to teleport. Emma grabbed Lily, so she was with them and they vanished again into purple smoke. They popped back into existence in the school cafeteria, with people all around them. The storm still raged outside, but the cafeteria had thick stone walls. They were safe.

Their appearance immediately drew a crowd, and everyone spoke at once, chattering about the storm and how glad they were that they were back, and Emma's parents had just noticed Lily and how confused she looked when Henry ran up to them.

Regina and Emma grabbed him at once, holding him tight. They were soaked and he had blood on his face.

"Not mine," Henry promised them, because he'd read their fear on their faces. "Mal got hurt. Some kind of fire things. Harpies."

"Is she all right?" Regina demanded, looking around. There were some blankets strung up as walls in the far corner, and Emma saw Granny and some of the others moving around.

"Yeah," Henry promised, smiling enough to calm his mothers. "They had sharp claws, and she's pissed about that, but she's fine."

"Mal's my mom?" Lily asked, staring at the blood on Henry's face. "And she's hurt?"

Henry looked her over, then met Regina's eyes. "She's okay. Granny's looking after her. Now that you're back, you guys can heal her, right?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma promised, patting his shoulder. "Tell us what happened."

Their little crowd dispersed as Snow and Charming sent everyone around them back to their tasks. The windows had been boarded up, some people were preparing food in the school kitchen, and the fairies were passing out candles and blankets. Dr. Whale treated the other injured in the first aid corner. Many of the people lying on cots and the floor had burns on their exposed skin, or scratches. The air stank of blood and sweat, but none of the injured bled enough to be the source. It wasn't until they got around the blankets that they saw the pool of dark dragon's blood on the floor. Mal must have bled heavily before changing back into her human form. The far end of the cafeteria led to the gym, and she must have come through the door as she changed, bleeding as she shrank.

Maleficent sat on one of the cots, the blood soaking through her shirt and her trousers made her clothes stick to her skin in patches, which was a strange effect because all of her clothes were intact. The skin beneath however, had been shredded, and whatever had cut her left long slices. Belle sat with her, pressing bandages against some of the worst of the bleeding and they were already starting to remove her shirt when she saw them.

"Well, it's about damn time," she snapped, staring at Emma and Regina with relief so vivid that Emma noticed the tears in her eyes. "We could have used you a few hours ago when the harpies attacked--" Mal's voice cut off because Belle had given up removing her shirt gently and was now peeling it away from her bloody skin.

Lily followed behind them and she nearly crashed into Henry when he turned away, embarrassed that Belle had stripped Maleficent down to her bloodstained, lacy bra. Lily and Maleficent stared at each other, and time could have stopped, because even the storm wasn't important. Their eyes met, and even over Regina's shoulder, they knew each other. Lily started to cry, trembling where she stood and Mal pushed Belle gently away and grabbed her daughter. Their hug brought them both down to the floor, both of them crying even as Belle and Regina fussed together over Mal's injuries. Emma patted Henry's shoulder as he stood, his back to the scene.

"Everything's going to be okay," Emma promised him. "Regina and I should be able to heal those cuts."

"Harpies have the sharpest claws," Henry explained, his face grave with concern. "Mal said they must have come out of the mine after we killed the beetles. She thought we'd won, because it was so quiet after she burned the beetles. But the harpies appeared yesterday and just kept coming. Their scales are so tough that fire just glances off of them. After the sun set, some of them had their own fire, and everyone just kept getting hurt because Mal couldn't burn them. She tried to fight them off, but they swarmed all over her." His voice broke, just a little, and Emma remembered that he was only fourteen, though he seemed so adult. "Mal nearly disappeared in a swarm of them, trying to fight them off. Then Ursula called the storm to stop them. She's on the roof now, keeping the rain and hail going so the harpies can't attack us again."

"Emma, I need you," Regina said, pulling her attention down to Maleficent's bare back. Long, ugly scratches marred her skin, as if she'd been attacked by parallel knives. Emma took Regina's hand, kneeling beside her and together they started to heal Maleficent's injuries, urging her flesh and skin to knit back together, to keep her blood. Through it all, she wouldn't let go of Lily, and she kept looking into her face, smiling and crying.

She kept speaking in that strange other-tongue that Maleficent only used rarely, and Emma had no idea if Lily understood it, but in the midst of all the chaos, they were together. Lily was finally home, and all the magic and the weirdness could wait, because she had her mother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also took some liberties with Ursula and gave her powers over sea storms. (much like she had in the film).


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily talks to her mother, Regina admits to Emma how awful she feels, Snow tries to make amends and Maleficent has an answer that Regina didn't ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work was kind of silly this week and Friday nights are the worst for new chapters, but oh well. Happy weekend. :)
> 
> Huge thanks again to Race and Wapwani, because they are such help making sense of my universe.

It was a strange and awkward little group that huddled together in the sectioned-off corner of the Storybrooke school cafeteria currently serving as a triage area. Whale - upon seeing Emma and Regina and having more than enough to do without tending to Mal - left them alone to concentrate on bandaging and stitching others.

Emma and Regina knelt beside Mal and Lily where they still sat on the floor, both heedless of the blood seeping through Mal’s torn clothes as they clung to each other. In Mal’s case, heedless of the wounds themselves. The pain, the smell of blood, this unattractive human building, Mal felt and saw none of it as she held Lily to her. Holding her daughter overwhelmed everything, after all this time, her little girl, her Lily was here, alive and whole in her arms. It felt at once as if Mal was flying and falling and she couldn’t quite tell which way was up (a very distant part of her conceded some of that might be blood loss). She had waited so long for this, it almost didn’t feel real, and so she focused on her senses, on the slender strength in Lily’s arms, in her scent, in the sound of her breathing. Her daughter was here, and that was all that mattered.

It was only when Regina started healing one of the claw wounds that had cut nearly down to her rib that anything pulled Maleficent’s attention away from Lily.

Hissing softly at the sting, she shifted, moving instinctively away from Regina’s hands and the power they held.

"Hold still," Regina admonished her, voice trembling. Mal looked up, tightening her hold around Lily even as she finally looked at Regina, taking in just how pale and shaken-looking she appeared. It softened Mal, turning her ire to dust and so she just sighed, shifting carefully back to grant Regina more access to her wounds.

“It stings,” she muttered gracelessly, not because it truly did, but because Regina expected - needed - her to be grumpy, so Mal was grumpy.

"I can't heal you if you keep moving,” Regina shot back, but she looked a little steadier, so Mal sighed in aggravation.

It made Regina’s lips quirk upward just enough.

Emma and Regina’s magic spread over her skin, slipping below to knit tissue and muscle back together. It itched and stung and was a relief all at once. Mal said no more, just looked at her daughter who still hadn’t left her. In truth, Lily looked shaken and pale herself, her eyes a little too wide, but she was smiling and still holding on to Mal and that was all that mattered. There would be time to explain everything soon.

"This one's deep," Regina said suddenly, resting her hand next to a long wound along Mal’s spine. "It'll be over in a moment."

Mal sensed more than felt Regina reaching for Emma, their fingers entwining and magic coming together, bright and lovely and strong. Regina’s fingers were warm against Mal's skin...very warm. Concern flickered through Mal’s mind and was gone, just as quickly as it came though, as substantial as a wisp of smoke.

Her whole world was her daughter and Mal stroked Lily's face, wiping away the drying tear tracks on her face. "I'll hold still."

"I remember you," Lily whispered, awe making her voice tremble. Her glance flickered down as if suddenly embarrassed and oh, that was more than she dared hope - that her little girl would remember her after all these years. Joy surged through Mal, stronger than Regina’s magic because this meant that she hadn’t failed totally as a mother. She and Lily might have had scant time together, but the dragon in Lily had already been strong enough to know her mother and hold on to that memory...even in the cruel, magic-less world of humans. The shame and fear in her daughter’s eyes told Mal all she ever wanted to know about how that genetic memory had been treated by the humans. With their narrow minds and magic-blind eyes...she wanted to destroy every single one of them who had ever hurt her little girl, made her doubt her own heart and mind.

But she couldn’t. They were long gone, out of her reach where she sat - because she was too weak to stand.

Mal pressed her forehead to Lily’s and softly breathed in her scent and the anger faded away, a wave washing back out to sea. Lily was here, forever out of the reach of those fools and no one would hurt her again. Regina and Emma would say that was all that mattered and Mal found she almost truly believed them.

"I know, I know, it's all right, you're here now," she whispered, holding her tight.

Lily lowered her head to Mal's shoulder, resting against her. "Why do I remember you? How can I remember you?" And there was confusion and shame and fear in her voice. It made Mal want to snarl.

"You're a dragon, sweetheart," Mal said, trying not to wince. Emma had her hands on her knee, and the thin flesh there resented being mended.

Lily lifted her head, looking at Maleficent's injuries as if she'd only just noticed them. "Are you all right?"

"It stings," Mal said. "A little, it's nothing."

"If it's nothing you should stop squirming," Emma said, shaking her head.

"You should hold still," Lily said. The concern on her face was warmer than the fire in Mal's chest.

"I am holding still," Mal retorted.

Regina touched her shoulder. "I just need to get the marks in front." Her hands were too warm. She had a fever. Regina couldn't- but she could- oh she could.

Mal let Lily move away from her but held both of her hands, tight. Regina's healing magic and her fingers moved across Mal's belly, then her chest, closing the last of her wounds. Smiling at Regina, Mal let go of one of Lily's hands just long enough to stroke Regina's cheek. "Thank you." Emma returned with a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Thank you both. You brought her back."

"We said we would," Emma reminded her. Her eyes went to Lily, then to their clasped hands, then to Regina. Emma would take care of her. Emma loved her. Were they ready? Could they possibly be ready?

The emergency blanket itched, but she clung to it, because it was warm, and didn't smell of sheep. Woollen blankets always smelt of sheep in the old world.

"We'll try and find you a shirt. My mom keeps some spare clothes in her classroom." Emma winced as she mentioned her mother, but she buried it deep. "Stay here, don't push yourself. We'll get you some food."

She disappeared behind the curtains. Maleficent didn't know what the townsfolk would consider food, but it would probably be hot dogs or some other terrible thing that in no way resembled something she'd eat. Lily stayed with her, letting Mal pull her under the blanket and hold her. She didn't know what to say, maybe she didn't need to, because Lily didn't need words. Lily was hers, and she was home. She had so much to explain, about her powers and her other mother, but for now, it was enough that Lily was here.

"Are you hungry?"

Lily smiled again, so shy. "We got drive-thru. Regina didn't eat much, but she's been sick."

"Oh?" She tilted her head. Worrying about Regina was a new concern, almost out of place, yet not, because this was important. Maybe Mal could help. Emma would be able to help more, but Mal could make it easier. What was that spell?

"Emma said she doesn't leave town much, so I guess driving all that way must have given her plenty of time to catch something." Lily's eyes flicked to Regina. "She didn't complain. I would have been a lot less patient if I was throwing up in a ditch."

Regina stood only a few feet away, with Henry on the other side of the blanket wall. She stole a look back at Mal, then followed Henry towards the cafeteria. With her wounds healed, Maleficent's senses were keener, less distracted. Henry smelt of concern and relief; he was healthy. She was accustomed to him now, fond of the scent of him and the reassuring strength of his heartbeat. Maleficent turned her senses to Regina and tried to focus. It was more difficult than it would ordinarily be, because she'd lost blood and much of her was still healing, even though her wounds were closed. It always took longer to heal internally: for flesh and muscle fibres to knit back together.

Once she concentrated on Regina, Mal knew. The spark pulsed within her, a faint, but growing knot of magic, unique, yet tinged with Emma and Regina both. Magical pregnancy was rare across species, and rarer still to between two humans. The dragonfire spell might have made things easier, boosted both of their magic, and made them open, vulnerable to the strength of living magic. and they were powerful. They had the strength, and the deep emotional connection between them would have only made it easier. More than that, they were bound to each other, so there was a strange sense of rightness to it. She couldn't sense the author's meddling in this, so, with luck, he was still trapped and they were safe. Emma and Regina had made life on their own, without the overbearing hand of fate.

She had to tell her, because this precious, tentative life needed to be protected. . Regina wouldn't guess, potentially not for weeks, and she needed to know. Emma could help manage her symptoms and they'd have to talk, because they wouldn't be certain, not yet. Potential lives that began in magic could be flicker out of existence as they'd come in. The cold fear from when she'd carried Lily caressed her spine like an old enemy. Lily's start had been precarious, and the days when Mal had feared that her little life wouldn't take, wouldn't grow, had been the longest of her experience. She could save Regina from that. She could tell her later, when this life was established and well on the way to becoming a child. Regina could live in ignorance of the flicker she carried until it burned within her, safe and secure.

That was wrong, and Mal hated that she couldn't do it. She wanted to protect Regina and Emma, keep them both from the chill of fear. Yet, if she only had a few moments, a handful of days, perhaps she deserved that. Maybe what time she had with this hint of a life, would be precious to her, and Emma.

Emma returned with clothing. It was too pale, pastel blue and the wrong shade of grey, also too short and not what Mal would have ever chosen, but it had no bloodstains, so she put on Snow White's gym outfit. The top was fluttery and the bottoms only came to her ankles, but Maleficent's socks were still wearable, so she allowed herself a small sigh of gratitude as she changed.

No longer bloody and terrifying, she was allowed out of the triage corner and that smirking doctor and the fairies started bringing in the others. Their injuries were relatively minor compared to hers, but humans could be delicate. Watching Emma and Regina volunteer to treat the townsfolk, Mal had to nod her agreement as well. It would aid Lily to learn healing magic, because often that was a type of magic that came easiest.

Mal reached for Lily's hand and beamed at her daughter when she took it. "We can help these people."

"How?" Lily asked, watching as they shifted the stretchers and the bodies on top of them, filling up the little corner of the room that had been precious left to Maleficent alone. "No one has ever wanted me to help them.."

Mal knelt next to one of the injured that the harpies had burnt, because she still couldn't trust herself to stand. Harpy fire was weak compared to her own, and taking that heat from the damaged skin of a human was simple. Holding that fire within her would help increase her own strength, so helping these people would be useful twice over.

"Feel that?" she said, guiding Lily's hand to float over the burn. "The quiet fire, in the background, the simmering sensation? That's her life spark, all humans have a similar feel to them, bright and full of hope. The angry energy, the red and orange, the fire that's screaming? That's the wound. You can take the anger out of it, pull it into yourself."

She took the burn slowly, letting the blisters and scorched flesh heal. Dragons were made of fire, and fire came to them easily. This fire would be much happier within her, not fighting her nature and being part of her, than it would be within a human. The blisters slowly faded and new pink skin rose in their place, smooth and unmarred.

"See?"

Lily stared, wide-eyed. Maybe she was going too fast, trying to teach her too much, but there were so many injured and she could help. Helping would make her feel like she belonged, like she had a purpose, maybe that would make her less scared to be part of this new world.

"There are good people here," she told Lily, keeping her voice low as they moved towards another injured person. "Brave people."

"And why does that matter to you?" Lily asked, curious. She leaned closer, and her presence changed the way Mal's heart beat. She'd been without her so long, and now she was here, with her, and nothing could be better than that.

"I have a weakness for humans," Mal said, smiling at her daughter. "Always have."

"So that's why you try to heal them? Because they're cute? Like cats or something?"

Mal reached for her daughter, touching her cheek. "Not like cats, not exactly. You'll see."

Shaking her head, Lily smiled. There was something so shy about her, so gentle. Her dragon side was buried deep, but she'd find it. She had so much strength, making it as far as she had by herself. She was proud of her yet sad that Lily had needed to be so strong on her own.

"They all have stories; these intense, brief lives that they fill with so much before they end," she said gently, keeping her voice low enough that Regina's people wouldn't hear her. It was too sentimental for them to understand. "There's a beauty in that. Healing them, protecting them, maintains that beauty. You'll see. Here, heal him with me."

Lily's fingers wound with hers, following her hand. "Okay."

* * *

  


Regina kept her arm around Henry's shoulders, for her own balance as much as reassurance that he was with her. Mal had Lily and she beamed at her daughter- their daughter- as she instructed her in basic healing magic. There were certainly more than enough burns, scratches and cuts to provide her with plenty of practice, and Lily seemed to share both of their magic, so she'd pick it up easily. Lily had enough to take in this evening without learning that she had two mothers. They'd talk about that once things had settled down. They could wait. Lily would be safe here.

Keeping her distance until Lily was more comfortable in the strange place they'd brought her to, Regina scanned the large room for Emma. Her head hurt and she needed her. Perhaps she'd forgotten what it was to be ill. During the curse, things hadn't changed, so she'd never been sick, never missed a day of work because of a minor ailment of her own. Henry grew, changing and ageing, so he was ill with the usual childhood diseases (which in Storybrooke were not life-threatening as they might have been in the Enchanted Forest). She had held him and rocked him, wishing she still had the magic to heal him, but able to trust that he'd recover. He always had.

In all that time, all those years, she'd only ever been the caretaker. She was deeply grateful that she'd never needed to depend on anyone else while he was young, because she wouldn't have been comfortable knowing she couldn't care for him. Now he was nearly as tall as she, yet she still kept up her smile, hid the pain in her head as she hid her nausea, through sheer force of will.

She wasn't sure how long she'd be able to maintain the facade. The storm howled all around the sturdy walls of the school and the rain pounded on the roof above, and both of them were so loud that her ears had trouble making out the voices around her. Granny, Mulan, Belle, David, Snow, Grumpy, Ruby- most of the town- surrounded her and Emma, filling them in on what had happened. The harpies had risen from the depths of the mine, setting themselves alight as the sun set. Maleficent had tried to fight them off, but there was so many that they swarmed her, overwhelming her. She'd held them off as long as she could, but in the end, only Ursula's storm had been able to stop them.

Emma did all of the talking, because standing up and appearing to be listening was the limit of Regina's endurance. Emma must have been right: she'd caught some virus out there in the world without magic and she'd just have to wait for her immune system to beat it back. She'd be fine in a few days, once everything stopped aching, (for some strange reason even her breasts ached), and her fever broke. She pulled her jacket tighter, hoping that would help against the cold, damp air, but she couldn't get warm. It couldn't be that cold. It was late spring, almost summer, yet the room seemed frigid, even with so many people.

Emma stopped an argument about the harpies and where they were coming from, because that was less important than stopping them, then listened to all the theories about why they'd chosen that afternoon to attack. Then Emma had to take a moment, because she'd coughed herself breathless, always hiding her mouth behind a tissue. She glanced at the tissues before tucking it away in her pocket, and Regina suddenly knew what it was. The remnants of the Chernobog had gotten into Mal, taking her when she was weakened, and the same black dust now had both of them. It made sense that it was only a nuisance for Emma, she'd only had magic for a short time, and she was the saviour, that had to help. Regina didn't know why it was affecting her stomach, not her lungs, not her lungs, but that was the only thing that made sense. Had she swallowed at the wrong time or in some other way been unlucky?

Emma insisted she was fine, and her parents hovered just close enough for Emma to glare them back. It was just the town line, which held the power of the Dark Curse and now the Chernobog: all the loose dark magic that line had to keep in. Emma didn't have a fever, and Regina could tell from her eyes that when she said it was just a cough, that's all it was.

"It's barely a cold," Emma insisted. Her expression was gentle when she looked at her parents, and maybe having Lily back, knowing she was safe, would make it easier to mend that relationship. "I'm fine," Emma promised again. "I'm going to go check on Ursula, make sure she's all right with the storm, then we can start planning for the clean up and how to deal with the harpies, if any of them survive this."

Regina released Henry with an weak squeeze, then followed Emma, focusing on her back as she led them through the crowd. Out of the packed cafeteria and the warmth of the bodies around them, it was even colder in the hallway. Trying not to wince just from the temperature change, Regina fell in step with Emma, and pulled her coat tighter. She touched Emma's arm once they were around the corner, and really out of sight of everyone. She'd promised to tell Emma the next time she was ill, but this wasn't just honesty, Regina needed her, wanted her to promise it was all right and to just be here, so she didn't have to fight alone.

She touched Emma's arm, drawing her closer.

"I'm fine," Emma promised, covering her hand with hers. "It's just like I got a lungful of dust, nothing like what happened to Mal." Her fingers squeezed Regina's, then she stopped. "You're too warm." She turned, halting in the corridor. She touched Regina's cheek, then pulled her hand back, surprised. "Regina--"

"It wasn't this bad--" she started to protest, but she was too tired. "Emma, everything hurts."

Taking off her jacket, Emma led her to the stairs and they sat together on a step, Emma's leather jacket wrapped over Regina's shoulders. "You should have said something."

"They needed you," Regina answered, shutting her eyes. She held her forehead, trying to stop the pounding behind her eyes. "There are harpies--"

"And we have a dragon, a magical half-octopus witch, fairies and a few werewolves, I think they can handle the town for awhile..." Emma let her words drift and kissed Regina's forehead, nearly making the pain bearable, if just for a moment. "I'm sorry you have Chernobog dust in your stomach instead of your lungs. That has to suck."

If she felt better, she'd laugh, but Regina smiled. "Do you think that's it?"

"Mal had a fever, and her lungs were a wreck. Something definitely got to me and I've coughed up black gunk twice. You have a fever, and it's your stomach instead, but maybe that's not so bad?" Emma held her tighter. "Or maybe it's worse. After I check on Ursula, we'll get you to bed, okay?"

"We don't have beds here," Regina reminded her, already comfortable by Emma's touch.

"We have cots, and all the mats from the gym. It's kinda cozy," Emma said, actually sounding slightly nostalgic.

Emma hasn't been camping, Regina assumed she'd hate cots and sleeping in a big room with many people, but maybe all of her group homes weren't bad. Mal and Henry already seemed to have a corner picked out, and having them would make it okay. Would Lily join them? Would she want more space? The school cafeteria was already pretty full, but they could spread out to some of the other rooms to give families more space.

"How's your stomach?" Emma asked after they'd sat in silence.

Regina didn't want to mention it, or think about it, because her stomach refused to be on her side. She couldn't remember being this nauseated, at least, not since they lived Enchanted Forest and suffered from a complete lack of understanding of food hygiene. Maybe she was tougher then, because she didn't remember being this fragile. "I'm not going to throw up on the floor, if that's what you're worried about."

"I worry about you," Emma corrected. "It's an elementary school floor, I'm sure it can handle whatever you throw at it."

The second part of what she said made Regina smile again, and it was hard to be miserable with Emma, even when she was. "You worry?"

"A lot," Emma reminded her, kissing her forehead again. "But you told me, and that, well, that's--" Emma hugged her, letting her rest her head on her chest. "I'm sorry I can't make you feel better."

"Who says you can't?" Regina wasn't sure Emma even heard her, but she wasn't going to let her go.

"Everyone's safe," Emma reminded her, kissing her head again. "Henry's here, Mal and Lily are together, everyone's all right, even my parents and the little guy. When the storm's over we'll clean up and figure out how to harpy-proof the town, and I will drink ginger ale and watch bad movies with you until you feel better."

"Why does it have to be bad movies?" she asked, still against Emma's chest. It was so safe there, so warm. She didn't know how she was going to let her go.

"You don't mind if you fall asleep during a bad movie," Emma explained. "If it's good, you might try to stay awake, or have to keep up with the plot, but if it's really bad, I mean _Swamp Monsters from Planet X_ bad, it doesn't matter what kind of strange dreams your brain comes up with. It'll all blend together."

She forgot for a moment how terrible the churning of her stomach was. That title was ridiculous. It couldn't possibly exist. "Someone actually made a film called _Swamp Monsters from Planet X_?"

"They made three," Emma said, oddly proud of that strange little fact. "The second one's the best."

Slowly lifting herself from Emma's chest, Regina swallowed, then met her gaze. Emma's eyes were so bright and familiar. "This is what you and Henry do when I have meetings at night? Watch completely terrible cinematic nonsense?"

"And play violent video games," Emma answer, her tone light even though her concern had furrowed her forehead. "What do you do when I work late?"

"Read, play chess."

Emma kissed her head again, still full of warmth. "Okay, look, when we get through this, we'll go home and we'll wait this out. I'll let you pick the first two films, and it'll Just be you, me, and a bucket, just in case."

There shouldn't have been anything romantic about the idea of lying on the sofa with Emma, trying not to vomit, yet sitting with her on the stairs had a kind of peace to it that Regina craved. Emma was home, as Henry was. Knowing they were both safe and nearby made struggling through her body's long list of complaints a little easier. She still didn't understand why her breasts were so sore. They'd never been as part of another illness. Even moving her arm too quickly across her chest was painful. Could the remnants of the Chernobog really do all of that? Had whatever magic he possessed found a synergy with the Dark Curse to have survived, even in the form of dust or some kind of blackness? Maybe she should be grateful that it had hit her less hard than Maleficent and stayed out of her lungs, because she didn't have time for weeks of coughing.

"Deal," Regina agreed, kissing Emma's hand. "Now go see the Sea Bitch and remind her that we need a town to come back to."

Emma stroked her cheek again, then kissed her, her lips gentle and cool. "I'll be right back."

She didn't take her jacket. Ursula had unleashed the wrath of the sea on Storybrooke and Emma went upstairs without her jacket. Regina got up to follow her and stopped, hanging on to the railing while her stomach calmed down. She was not going to be sick in front of Henry, or anyone else from the town who needed her to protect them. She would hold herself together, even if it was by will alone. Giving in to the way her the contents of her stomach seemed to press at the back of her throat, she sat back down. Shutting her eyes, she put her head in her hands and thought about her breath. She was fine. It was just the Chernobog and the terrible darkness of his. She could fight darkness. She'd done that before. She had Henry, Emma, and Mal and Lily. She had a family now, as odd as it was, and she'd beat this, even if she did end up watching Swamp Monsters with Emma.

"Regina?"

That wasn't Emma's voice and she looked up reluctantly. Forcing her mask back down, Regina steeled herself. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry," Snow said, immediately retreating a step. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Emma will be down soon," she said, getting to her feet. She had to hold the railing again, and her hand came up, covering her mouth by reflex. She would not be sick in front of Snow. She couldn't. She wanted Emma back, more than anything, as she stood facing Emma's mother.

"I came-" Snow stopped, for once sensing that she wasn't wanted. "Maleficent asked me to check on you."

Since when were Mal and Snow on speaking terms? Perhaps the combination of blood loss and having Lily back had softened her. "She what?"

"She asked that I check on you," Snow repeated, and she took a step forward. "She was concerned that you expended too much energy healing her."

Regina rolled her eyes. Mal knew she and Emma were fine, which meant she'd sent Snow because forcing them to speak would spend the mending of their relationship. Mal was meddling, of course, and she never appreciated how difficult some discussions could be. After she'd lost Lily, she saw everything differently.

"Healing her wasn't a problem," Regina promised, holding tight to the railing. If she didn't move, she'd be fine until Snow gave up and left her alone.

"No, I suppose it wasn't." Snow's eyes fell, and she took a step back, starting to retreat. Regina had outlasted her for the moment, then she advanced again, too close this time. "She looks so much like you."

"Maleficent?" Regina asked, letting her tone bite.

"Lily," Snow answered, meeting Regina's eyes with grief in her own. "She has your hair."

"Which will do her no good in this humidity," Regina replied, keeping the walls firm between them. "We haven't--"

"Of course, right," Snow said, hurrying through the words. "That's a lot for her to take in. Her mother being a dragon is probably enough of a shock."

She wanted to hate her. If she could dredge up that familiar desire to see Snow suffer, this conversation could be easier and over much quicker. Regina couldn't. Snow and David had taken her daughter, made her live a life of doubt, but when Regina looked at her, she only felt weary. Maybe that was her stomach. "Lily remembers Maleficent. Dragons have a kind of genetic memory. Lily spent all of her life knowing her adoptive parents weren't her parents and that she had a mother, somewhere. Of course, in a world without magic, that meant she was crazy and had to be convinced otherwise."

"I'm sorry."

Regina nodded, and moving her head only made her nausea that much worse. "I know." She swallowed, fighting the rising in the back of her throat.

"You're sick, aren't you?" Snow ventured forward, and then she was too close. Regina couldn't retreat up the stairs, and Emma wasn't back yet. "Maleficent is worried about you because you're sick."

"I'm fine."

"You're not," Snow argued, and she lifted her hand, presumably to touch her. Regina flinched, as she always did and Snow's expression softened further. "You didn't say anything when we were discussing the town."

"Emma-" she started, but Snow interrupted.

"You're flushed," she said. Her hand still hung in the air, halfway to Regina's forehead. She knew better than to touch her, but she wasn't going to give up. "May I?"

Where was Emma? Why wasn't she back? The last person she wanted to fuss over her was Snow, but she wasn't leaving. "Crossing the town line made me ill," Regina admitted. She lowered her eyes and allowed Snow to touch her forehead. Her cool fingers did help with her headache, just for a moment.

"I thought--"

"I didn't cast the curse this time," Regina said. "It's your curse, not mine, and we used it to kill the Chernobog. An echo of its power is still present. At least, that's what seems to be. Maleficent was affected much more seriously, and Emma less so."

"I'm sorry," Snow repeated. She reached for Regina's hand, holding it as Regina stiffened. Emma's touch was different, as was Henry's; she was safe with them. Trusting Snow was harder. "You have a fever."

"I do," Regina answered, trying to make her tone short and clipped. "It'll pass."

"You should sit."

"I was sitting," she protested, frustrated that Snow hadn't left. "I'm waiting for Emma."

"I'll wait with you."

Which was the last thing she wanted. Regina wanted to be angry. To hate Snow and David both for the hell her daughter had been through, yet, she'd always hated, and not hated, Snow White. She'd defended her, protected her from Cora and Zelena. Hate was over.

"Emma takes care of you, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

Snow's tiny smile held such pride. "I'm glad."

She stared straight ahead, and after a while, Regina shut her eyes, because it was easier not to have to focus on anything.

"How did she know you were sick?" Snow asked.

Regina kept her eyes shut, rubbing the centre of her forehead. "She can probably sense it, or guess."

"Dragons can sense that?"

Wishing she could thrust one of the old books about dragons into Snow's hands, Regina sat in silence. Snow would figure out the answer to her question.

"She's spent the whole week with Henry, even took him flying-" Snow paused, "-sorry, I don't know if you were meant to know that."

Swallowing again, Regina didn't look up. "I trust her."

"You loved Maleficent, didn't you?" When Regina didn't answer, Snow kept talking. "You must have, and now you have a child, and she's back."

"She's not dangerous," Regina insisted, needing to protect Lily from being labeled a villain before she'd even met the town. "She's so much like Emma. So lost, and lonely. All she wants is her mother."

"Both of them," Snow reminded her. "She'll need both of you."

"Not yet," Regina said. Lowering her head stopped some of her nausea, but it only got worse. She couldn't remember the last thing she'd eaten, and perhaps it was her own fault that her stomach was now so sore. What was the point of eating if she was only going to be sick?

"You're a good mother," Snow said. Regina shuddered at her touch, but accepted the hand Snow laid on her shoulder. "It's hard to parent someone who's already grown, but you've done such a good job with Henry."

"Thank you."

"And I know it was difficult for you, but you were a wonderful mother to me," Snow said, and her tone was surprisingly soft.

Regina had to open her eyes, because she hadn't been anything of the sort. She'd wanted Snow dead for years as her step-mother and they'd never gotten along. She'd faked most of her affection, hadn't she?

"You can't have lied about all of it," she insisted, rubbing Regina's back. "You did try to kill me, and declare me a traitor, but you taught me about love, and held me when my father died. I know it's strange and complicated between us, but my daughter loves you, and I- well, I guess I always have, it's just easier now. Everything's out in the open. We've hurt each other, more than anyone should, but Emma loves you, and you're my grandson's mother. Family is complicated, and ours is uniquely so."

Regina turned to study her face. Snow's lack of malice used to be so frustrating, but now it only felt honest. They'd hurt each other greatly, but helped each other just as much. Making their family work with the addition of Lily was just another challenge.

"I'm so sorry, Regina. I'm sorry you've just met your daughter, that leaving Storybrooke's made you so sick, and that you have to get to know an adult, when you should have held her as a baby." Snow leaned closer and this time when Snow touched her, Regina didn't flinch. "I'm glad Emma's with you, and I'm so happy that you're so good for each other. You do know that, right?"

"I-" Regina began but had to stop. Did she know that? She'd been a pawn in her mother's plans when she'd married Leopold, and Cora had hated Daniel enough to kill him. She'd kept Graham and Maleficent both secret, and now, with Emma, Emma was the first relationship she'd had where anyone had been genuinely happy that she was in love. "I love her."

"I know." Snow leaned closer, and she wasn't Emma. Her presence didn't have the same calming effect that Emma's did, but she wasn't unwelcome. "And you love Lily."

She nodded, not trusting her voice until she'd had a breath. "She and Emma were friends, years ago. They- they understand each other."

"That can be helpful in a step-parent relationship," Snow said with a hint of humour.

"She's older than Emma."

"And there's a thirty year gap between my children." Shrugging, Snow rubbed Regina's back. "My grandson is nearly fifteen and my son's not even fifteen months. My daughter's dating a woman that's become like a sister to me, and I'll have to find some other word to describe it, because that just makes it sound terrible, and it's not. We're family. We're a very strange family, and that's okay. We'll be able to have the strangest Thanksgiving dinner this year, and I'm already looking forward to it."

Wincing a little as Snow called them sisters, Regina smiled and finally began to relax. "I think it should be in our house."

"Yours and Emma's," Snow agreed. "Of course, you have the dining room for it, and Lily and Maleficent have to come. They do eat human food, don't they?"

"They do. Mal's not a fan of vegetables."

Snow smiled and there was no pain in it at all. "I did wonder why Henry always seemed to have twice as much salad at Granny's when they ate together. They get along so well, don't they?"

Her ex and her son were friends, her daughter and her - partner- was that the word she wanted for Emma? Her Emma and Lily were connected, as were Regina and Mal, and Snow, Charming and the little Neal. It was a strange mess, just as Snow said, but family, nonetheless. Emma and Lily had both been without a family for years, and now they had an overabundance, including a sociopathic, drunken aunt and another who could throw up a thunderstorm whenever they needed and teleport through realms.

"They're kindred spirits, both obsessed with books and stories. Maleficent knows more stories than anyone I've met. She used to--" Regina halted, trying not to reminisce too much but Snow's patient expression held no disdain, no recrimination. Regina loved Maleficent, and Emma, and the rest of their tangled knot of family. Snow understood that.

"What did she do?"

"Told me stories, all the stories I'd never read, or even heard of before. I'd lie in bed with her and she'd just talk, making words into pictures and music from far off lands before I fell asleep." Losing herself in the past almost made her forget how angry her stomach was, and how much she ached. Snow's arm went around her, and it stayed, holding her close until Emma returned.

* * *

 

 

Late that night, after nearly everyone was asleep, Henry and Lily sat just a little away from them, reading his book of fairy tales with a flashlight. He'd been happy to explain who everyone was, and to introduce her around. It seemed that the story Emma's parents had been so worried about, something about a destroyer and a saviour, wasn't in the book and no one knew it. It was easier for the precious prince to take the half-dragon around the townsfolk. No one doubted Henry's sincerity. Some may have still wondered about Maleficent, because her reputation was apparently quite fearsome, but no one shied from Henry when he took Lily around the town.

The fairies had been uppity, but Blue had always been aloof, so Mal had told Lily not to worry and suggested Henry take her through the book. She'd been so proud of Henry when he explained that the book was biased, poorly written in parts and left out many stories. He'd learned well, and listening to his clear voice tell Lily her history made her heart warm and content. It was good that they got along. That he accepted her so readily. She'd be comfortable in her strangely wrought family, once she learned how it worked, and that the kind young man was her brother, that the couple with the young baby who looked guilty whenever she passed were both her kidnappers and kin.

Emma had been on the roof with Ursula nearly an hour before she returned, her hair and clothes dried with magic. Ursula's storms were beautiful, rich and full of power, and Emma had been captivated. Maleficent knew that kind of wonder. She'd seen firestorms rage through forests as if they were twigs, and Ursula call a great maelstrom so powerful that it had left the sea bed dry as it passed. Cruella would be up there with Ursula, because there was nothing she loved more than destruction. They were an odd pair, but Ursula mediated most of Cruella's dark impulses and kept her reasonably tame. Ursula could be relied on, and Cruella could be distracted by power or pain. She'd been helpful in the battle against the harpies because she could turn them against each other, making them tear each other to shreds.

Mal would have to have quiet words with Emma and Regina, explaining how best to keep Cruella's demons reined in.

Maleficent sat on the strange blue mat, that was not straw, but soft, blankets all around her. The dwarves and fairies had made themselves useful, making sure everyone had bedding. There was little privacy, but the water was still running in the toilets, so by the standards of the old world, all was well. She watched Lily and Henry talk about the book, only half listening because she was tired and she knew the stories Henry told. She'd spent most of the night healing, and guiding Lily through the basics of repairing a human. Collecting all of that fire made her comfortable, even sleepy, but her mind still whirled.

She had to tell Regina, to let her find the words to share with Emma, before they lost their chance. Part of her heart protested again that she could wait, if this child were not to be, it might be better to let Regina's illness pass, unrecognised. Emma would hold her, she'd heal, and she would not have to know what might have been.

Maleficent sighed, resting her head on her knees. Even though her heart was heavy, she owed Regina the truth. Turning from Henry and Lily, she caught Emma's eye. She sat against the wall, Regina's head on her shoulder and a blanket wrapped around her. Emma would have watch soon, and Mal would have time to tell Regina.

Snow and Emma walked Regina over together, carrying some fizzing drink and some of the plain, dull crackers that tasted of parchment. Apparently they were easy to eat, but Regina hadn't liked them earlier. Emma and her mother were civil as they mutually fussed over Regina and got her settled on the mat next to Maleficent, not far from where Henry and Lily sat reading. It must have been harder to let go of her anger for Emma, without the unstoppable love Mal had for her daughter to burn it away. Lily consumed her, like her own inner blaze. All that mattered was the future, and what they could do together. Snow White and her prince's mistakes were nothing compared to having Lily now.

Once Snow had retreated and Emma had kissed Regina goodbye to take her turn on watch, Mal lay down beside Regina, offering to share her blanket.

Regina looked at her, confused.

"You're freezing, aren't you?"

"It's not that bad," Regina insisted, and Mal shook her head.

"I'm warm, and I promise Emma will not mind if I help keep your teeth from chattering."

Regina looked at her for a moment, then slid over, letting Maleficent wrap her arms and the blanket around her. Inside of being a cold shape against her, Regina was warm, too warm for one of her kind. Her hands were dry, so her fever hadn't broken, and once they were settled, she sighed, and Mal heard her discomfort.

"It might get worse before it gets better," she said, holding Regina with one arm around her stomach. "And I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Regina didn't turn, just nestled closer, because the heat of Mal's body must have been closer to the temperature the baby needed. Magical pregnancy always demanded so much before it settled.

"I didn't want to tell you until I was certain," Mal began. She rested her hand, palm open, against Regina's belly and this time used magic to feel for the tiny hint of life. It glimmered back at her, barely more than a trace of magic separate from her mother.

"Certain of what?" Regina wondered, half turning to try and see Maleficent's face.

"You're pregnant, dear."

Regina went rigid against her, as if Maleficent had threatened her, or if she'd been injured. "What are you talking about?"

Mal stroked her hair, wishing she could do something to make this easier for Regina. "I feel it in you: the change in your magic."

"That's not possible," she said, her words final, even though she didn't sound like she believed herself.

"With your magic, and Emma's, it's the only thing that makes sense." Mal argued, trying to be gentle. "And you know that. Let me guess, you're cold when you're not, your head hurts, your breasts hurt, you're nauseated all the time, and nothing you do makes your stomach settle. You want Emma, more than anything, just to be near you, and when she's gone, all your symptoms are worse."

She stopped turning towards Mal, and instead rolled down, hiding her eyes. "How do you know that? How could you? I'm just sick, crossing the town line-"

"It's not that," Mal insisted. "When I was pregnant with Lily, whenever you left me, my stomach turned to waves and knots," Maleficent said, remembering the cold in her castle without Regina's presence. "And I hurt. Magical pregnancy takes so much of your energy, not just the physical, but your magic as well. The headaches never really go away. At least, mine didn't."

Still stiff, as if she feared being struck, Regina said nothing, but one of her hands found Mal's wrist and held tight.

"I didn't think you and Emma could. Not really, I would have made you be so much more careful, but you were so happy together, and it's rare, extremely rare with humans." She continued to stroke Regina's hair, her other hand still flat on Regina's belly. "I knew you were special. You had to have such strength to get me pregnant, and Emma, she has the same kind of strength. She's dauntless, like you are. Together, well, you've made life, dear."

Mal felt Regina's shudder, perhaps it was a sob, more than she heard it.

"You gave me Lily, I should have realised that Emma could give you a child as well. Humans usually don't, not together, yet you did, my dear, oh my dear--" her words trailed off, because her throat had gone tight. Regina and Emma deserved so much happiness, not the uncertainty and exhaustion of waiting to see if Regina's pregnancy would continue.

Regina's warm hand caught Mal's, and drew tight, clutching her fingers. "It's not set, is it?"

She wouldn't lie, or soften the truth. "Magic's treacherous, hungry and wild. It'll feed on you, taking what it can, before it settles and starts to grow. This is another life, almost like a parasite, and your body will take time to adapt. Mine did."

"You could have lost Lily," Regina realised, her voice almost breaking. She understood that this pregnancy would also be precarious.

Mal blinked back tears, almost relieved that Regina couldn't see them. "The spark doesn't always catch, even with dragons. If you're this sick, it's a good sign. It's starting to burn, and once it's caught, it's easier."

"I can't be pregnant," Regina whispered, more to the universe than to Maleficent. "I can't. You, Emma, Snow, you have children, I, I have Henry."

"And Lily," Mal said, smiling into Regina's sweet smelling hair. "And maybe this one too."

"And you feel it?" There was hope in the question, and Mal held her tighter.

"I smell it. Emma and you, together, wrapped up into a single flame." Regina's shoulders finally began to relax against her. "She'll be so beautiful."

"I can't imagine," Regina said, stroking Mal's fingers instead of crushing them. "How do I tell Emma?"

"Joyfully," Maleficent said, lifting her head to see Henry and Lily, still talking over his book in the darkness. "Gently. I imagine the prospect of having a child with you hasn't crossed her mind, even though you already share one."

Regina's breath shudders in her chest. "Henry's not magical."

"Of course he is," Mal teased. "He's wise, and having that so young is gift." She brought her hand to the back of Regina's neck, and reached out with her magic, trying to remember the spell. She found it like a half-remembered song. Her magic could help quiet Regina's stomach, if temporarily.

"What are you doing?" Regina asked, more relieved than concerned.

"Something I remembered, it'll help, and it'll feel even better when Emma does it, but--"

"It'll be hard," Regina repeated. She turned her head and her dark eyes seem to stretch into forever. "But I'll have Emma."

"You will, and she'll have you." Maleficent couldn't even be jealous of them, because she had grown too fond of them as a pair. They deserve to be happy. "And you're both so very stubborn."

Regina sighed, and her tension faded. "Does that help?"

Mal shut her eyes, focusing on relieving Regina's symptoms so she too could get to sleep. "It helped me."

"Will she look like Emma?" Regina asked after the silence had grown soft and comfortable. "Lily looks so much like me. I'd like- I mean, it would be nice if she--"

"She'll be both of you," Mal promised, letting her magic seep gently into Regina to ease her stomach. "So she'll be extraordinary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and Regina's pregnant, which was the plan since the first chapter, so I ignored the potion from the show. Apologies if that's not what you wanted for this story, it's what I wanted to explore.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They start to clean up after the storm, Regina tries to tell Emma that she's pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh these two weeks...but it's over! thanks for your patience.

Regina woke slowly, disorientation at the unfamiliar surface she was on and noises around her giving way to understanding when she pried heavy eyelids open.  Beyond the walls of the gym Ursula’s storm was quieter now and perhaps she'd let it blow itself out in the morning. At that exact moment, however, Regina didn’t care. Maleficent was curled against Regina’s back, her body warm and comforting, shielding Regina in a way she remembered so vividly from their early days together so long ago.  Maleficent had been the one to remind Regina that being held didn’t have to feel like a trap, that arms around her waist could be a safe haven.

And now it wasn’t just Mal protecting her. Regina smiled softly at the messy riot of soft blonde hair in her vision. Emma lay in front of her, eyes shut and her breathing slow, her cheek squashed awkwardly on the pillow made by her jacket.   Sometime during the night she had slipped under the blanket too and was now almost as close as their positions allowed, one hand resting on Regina’s hip and their legs pressed together. The softness of sleep held her face, leaving her features still and unmarked with worry, all the bright, stubborn determination that was so very… _Emma_  was buried now. She looked gentler. Younger. Regina’s chest tightened, for a wonder not with nausea but simple emotion. Because she knew as soon as Emma woke that gentleness would fade. She would worry; about the town, about her family, about Regina, wanting to keep her safe, to take away the symptoms that made her so ill, and now...Mal’s words echoed in her mind and suddenly Regina’s chest felt too small, or maybe her heart was just too big. Shifting carefully she rested her hand just below Mal’s on the still-flat plane of her stomach.  

Regina couldn’t feel it yet, the flicker of life Mal assured her was there, but she didn’t doubt.  Not Mal. Not about this.  

There were other doubts: pregnancy in this world was hardly easy, but it was known, understood. There were thousands of books and medical professionals, information and schedules but none of those had ever been written about a child conceived by magic, whose parents might or might not have still been under the lingering influence of a spell meant to connect them to a being that wasn’t even human. Regina had no way of knowing how long she'd be nauseated, when her fever would break, when (or even if, and please, please let it be ‘when’) her stomach would finally settle. She could hope that when Mal woke up she might have answers, but Regina knew enough about the nature of magic and magical beings to know Mal might well be as helpless as she was.

Unaware of Regina’s thoughts, Emma slept on, sighing in her sleep and tightening her hold on Regina briefly. The unconscious action brought a smile to Regina’s face and she reached up, toying with a lock of Emma’s soft hair, letting it fall around her fingers. Emma Swan had been her adversary, her ally, her antagonist and her hope. She’d been Regina’s student, and her partner and the mother of Regina’s child. Twice now.  She'd once been so worried about Emma's importance that Regina had taken a potion to forget, so she could raise Henry without fear of what would eventually happen when the loop of Fate closed and Emma came to break the curse and - Regina had thought at the time - defeat her.

In the dim light of the room, Regina’s lips quirked into a wry smile. Whatever push Fate may have given her and Emma, she didn’t think this had ever been how their story was supposed to go.

Maybe they weren’t ready. It was so soon, unplanned, and she and Emma had never talked about more children. They'd barely talked about their relationship and where they were heading together. There simply hadn’t been time.  Their lives were so chaotic, and Regina had no idea how a child would fit into them. Was she even ready to be a mother again?   What if… Images of Cora, of magic, restraints and cold dark fear, gripped Regina and she shuddered, heart racing and the acrid tang of long-gone terror returned to the back of her throat.

Then Emma murmured something that sounded suspiciously like “Regina” and shifted closer until their bodies were pressed together, Regina’s head below Emma’s chin. She was enveloped in warmth - for the first time in weeks not cold at all - in the familiar scent of Emma’s soap, could feel the energy that was her magic just below Emma’s skin and there, there was Regina’s answer.  This time would be different.

This time, she wasn’t alone.

Perhaps that’s why she was so calm right now, even knowing all the obstacles possibly in their path. Somehow, she and Emma kept making their own destinies. Somehow, they kept beating all the odds. Together, they had transcended realms, moved a moon, defeated monsters, saved their son and now, brought Regina’s daughter home.

The fear would return, she knew. The doubts and the memories and probably the nightmares. Especially if she was carrying a little girl. But held between Mal and Emma, with Henry and Lily close by, Regina felt shielded from her worries, as if Mal and Emma’s arms were her armour.

Tilting her head, Regina pressed a soft kiss to the skin of Emma’s throat and closed her eyes, sinking into the embrace and letting herself imagine Emma holding their child. The way she’d sing those silly little songs and her bright, bright smile: they'd be all right. They could handle this.

Emma’s slow steady breathing as her guide, Regina slipped into sleep soon after.

* * *

The next time Regina woke was hardy so pleasant, the contraction of her muscles as she shivered pulling her from sleep. She tried tugging the blanket closer before she was even truly awake, but it did no good. Emma was gone, as was the warmth of Mal behind her and cold seized her skin and muscles like a gnarled hand.  Regina resisted the urge to groan. She was so very tired of feeling this way.  Then she remembered the why, and suddenly it mattered so much less. She could bear this for as long as she needed to.

With a soft sigh, Regina gave up trying to stay asleep, blinking in surprise to see Henry sitting next to her, eyes wide with concern.

"Lily's getting you another blanket, and Emma and Mal are coming back. We thought you'd be okay, but your temperature's gone up again." Henry touched her forehead; his hand was cool and Regina ached for a wholly different reason now.  She tried to say something but he kept going: the uncertainty she could see in the set of his shoulders making him babble just a bit. "I checked for crazy straws in the kitchen, but the school doesn't have any. When we get home, I'll make sure you get one." He smiled at her, hopeful and tremulous and Regina didn’t care about the cold or the way her head spun, she shifted and sat up before Henry could protest and wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said softly, gently kissing his cheek. Even sitting down, he'd grown so tall. She knew just how worried he was when he didn’t squirm away at the affection, just studied her face.  She wanted to reassure him, and tell him the real reason she was sick. She never wanted to keep secrets from her son again, but here, in this crowded place,  without Emma, this wasn’t the time. So she hugged him and forced herself to smile and sit up straighter (even though her stomach also protested remaining upright) and if her son was old and wise enough to see through his mother’s attempts well...he was also young enough not to say anything.

The weight of another blanket settled over her shoulders, and Lily knelt next to Henry. Her eyes - dark and warm like Regina’s own - were wide and worried; Regina wanted so badly to reach out and comfort her daughter, because she'd seen Lily suffer enough for several life times. She gripped the blanket tighter around her to stop herself. Soon, they'd let go of these secrets.  "You okay? My mom's coming, and Emma. They were up on the roof, looking at the mess."

"The town's mostly all right," Henry promised her, tucking the blanket tight around her shoulders. It didn't help, but she appreciated the gesture, and the gentleness of his hands. "Emma said a lot of windows will need to be replaced, and some of houses that were more exposed lost parts of their roofs, We'll need to replant some of the trees."

"My mom-," Lily said it carefully, as if she’d  been waiting her whole life to say it, but was still afraid of the word. Regina understood. "Did a sweep of the town and didn't see any harpies, any live ones anyway. She took Emma along."

Regina's thoughts must have  shown on her face because Henry smiled suddenly, eyes sparkling with something light and reminiscent of his younger self. "Yeah, Emma went flying. Mal said it helps to have someone with the human eye for detail. When she's a dragon, she doesn't pay much attention to the little things.

Despite her stomach and her  head Regina nearly laughed, her smile reflecting Henry’s. She would have paid a lot to see Emma’s face the first time Mal launched off the ground. Emma wasn’t even thrilled about riding horses. She’d have to remember to ask Mal how Emma had taken it.

“No other news?” She asked Lily, who  shook her head.

“Ursula was exhausted so she’s sleeping now, Cruella said she’d keep an  eye  on her and Sn...Emma’s parents are organizing supplies and work parties for later.”

There was a bitter twist to Lily’s expression Regina understood all too well.  Snow and Charming owed their daughter, but it would have to wait.  At least until the immediate crisis was over.

If another one didn’t come along.

Regina’s head pounded a little harder, pressure building behind her right eye and she sighed.

“Mom?” Henry’s worry, made her ache, but at least this time she had an easy answer for him.

“Just good old fashioned irritation,” she said dryly, pinching the bridge of her nose.  For a moment he grinned carefully back at her and Regina made the mistake of trying to insist she was fine.

Why had she never truly appreciated how fully her son had inherited her scowl.

“No you’re not," he said quietly.  "Your temperature's over 100." He held up one of the sticker thermometers, which apparently had been on her forehead while she was sleeping. She'd have to have words with Emma about that. "Dr. Whale said you must have some kind of infection, definitely magical, and Grandma thought the fairies might be able to help, but you were asleep." And there was the weight and the worry she wanted to spare him from so desperately.

"We didn't want to wake you," Lily added, looking to Henry for support. "Sorry. Everyone's worried about you."

Now it was Regina’s turn to scowl.  The idea of others seeing her weak...her skin almost crawled and she straightened, her hand dropping to Emma’s jacket, her fingers stroking the soft leather absently. It had been so easy when they were outside of Storybrooke to close everything out except her family. Away from the town, shielded from its history and so many memories with only Emma by her side, she’d allowed herself to let go of everything except their mission and Emma and what was happening with her  own body. It had felt so good to have Emma there, protecting her, she’d allowed herself to forget, to let her guard down and be weak for a while. Now they were back, with the whole town apparently aware of her illness...

“Mom,” Henry said, warning and exasperation in his voice. He knew her all too well. "Don't say you're fine.”

He wasn’t her little boy anymore, not really, but she would always, always be his mother.  One look at his face, at the fierceness in his eyes and Regina felt herself soften, her shoulders relaxing. Her little prince, so grown up.

“I won’t,” Regina said softly, reaching out to smooth a strand of messy hair behind his ear. “But I will be, all right? I promise.”

Henry and Lily exchanged a glance and Regina’s throat tightened at how easy they were with each other.

“Okay,” Henry replied solemnly.

“Good, now help me up and let’s go make sure your grandparents aren’t making too much of a mess of things okay?”

Henry shook his head but he was smiling just a little as he stood, holding out his hand.  Before Regina could take it though, rising voices and a change in the energy of the room signalled a new arrival. Regina looked up, finding Emma unerringly. And almost burst out laughing at the sight of her.

Emma looked like she’d been through a windstorm, her hair messy and tangled, cheeks stained bright red. Her eyes were a little glassy and slightly too large and if Regina was any judge, her knees were definitely unsteady. Behind her, Mal walked easily, a smug look on her face. Regina didn’t need to be told what had happened; Emma had said something snarky and Mal had come in for one of her hard landings to get back at her. Regina remembered those from their first days together, when Mal was as likely to snap at her as kiss her and Regina was far too fond of pushing the dragon’s buttons.

Frankly she was impressed Emma was still standing, and an arched eyebrow in Mal’s direction received a subtle nod and soft quirk of her lips that Regina could only describe as fond. Mal was impressed too.  Regina shook her head.

Idiots, both of them.

* * *

Lily was up and walking toward Mal and Regina’s eyes followed her. She ached to be able to go and be with Mal and Lily but they needed each other more right now. She kept reminding herself that silently. Lily needed time, no matter how easily she seemed to be adjusting to having her life turned upside down, Regina recognized just how fragile her daughter was. There would be time.

There had to be time.

Emma’s body hit the mat Regina was sitting on with an ungraceful ‘thud’ and Regina bit  her lip,  thoughts turning momentarily in a more pleasant direction.

“Have a good flight?” she couldn’t resist asking. The grumpy, childish pout on Emma’s face was totally worth it.

“Your ex is sadistic,” Emma groaned, falling backwards dramatically. Her eyes were sparkling though.  “Hey kid, go get me a bottle  of water would you?” She said to Henry, who rolled his eyes.

“Yes Ma, I will conveniently leave so you and mom can have grownup talk,” he glared at his birth mother and  now Regina really did laugh.  She and Henry shared a wink and  then he slouched off pretending to be mightily offended for a few steps.

“Your son is too smart for his own good,” Emma grumbled, sitting up. She was smiling though, that careful smile so full of hope that warmed Regina’s heart so much and made her reach for Emma’s  hand.

“Our son,” Regina replied softly, watching the way Emma’s whole body softened, wonder and awe and something else Regina could never quite place dawning on her face like the sun and _oh_  the power of that single word, that held so much more meaning now. It was only by tightening her fingers around Emma’s that Regina resisted resting her hand protectively on her belly.

“How are you feeling?” Emma asked after a moment, her voice quiet enough to only reach Regina’s ears

“Better now,” Regina murmurred. It was truth, not merely sentiment, because as soon as Emma had taken her hand she felt the comforting warmth of their magic combining, slipping beneath her skin, pulling something of Emma into herself. It pushed back the cold and settled her, not much, but some. Enough. For a while anyway.

"Uh-huh," Emma said, unconvinced, though she thankfully let it drop.  She kissed her forehead, and her mouth lingered so that Emma's words were only for her. "Mal thinks that she can teach me how to bring your fever down, but we need to get some ingredients from your vault and we're not sure what the extent of the flooding was."

There was a part of Regina - small and tired and selfish and always, always aching from the past - that wanted to say to Hell with it, wanted to take Emma and Henry, and possibly Mal and Lily and just go home. Repair whatever damage had been done to her house, then just lock the door and let herself relax, maybe cook dinner in her kitchen, in her home. She wanted to curl up in her own damn bed with Emma’s arms around her knowing that Henry was reading comics in his room and Mal and Lily were either taking up the spare guestrooms or downstairs in the study, putting a dent in Regina’s liquor collection and talking late into the night.  She wanted just a day and a night where she could _breathe_ , warm and safe with Emma’s body pressed to her own.  She wanted to finally say the words that were caught in her throat, straining to get out because this was her family and she wanted, so _desperately_ wanted this to be her future.

The rest of her, the part that had been Queen and Mayor, who had created this town - her town - with her father’s life and her own pain...the rest of her needed to _do_. To assess the damage and plan for repairs and make sure Snow and Charming didn’t make an well-meaning but idiotic decisions that would just give her more headaches later. Her head and her stomach might not have been happy but Regina had weathered far, far worse and this time, she didn’t have to do it alone.

“It’s just a fever,” she told Emma gently, still in awe at the way Emma worried. She still didn’t quite know how to handle that, the way it made her heart feel too big for her ribs, all the ways in which Emma cared.

Even if they were a look that clearly said “bullshit,” which she was on the receiving end of right now.

Like they had so many times in the last hours, the words seemed to leap into Regina’s mouth and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from letting them spill out, flooding this wonderful thing and possibly washing away some of what they built.  Her lips stayed pressed together though and instead she just reached for Emma's hand. As soon as their skin touched Emma's magic reacted again, reaching out, almost vibrating, as if it were being pulled towards her and Regina sighed at the warmth, like sunshine afternoon sunshine streaming through a window onto her skin.

"What is that?" Emma asked,staring fascinated at their hands. "You feel it, don't you? Does that mean I can help you like I did Maleficent?"

Regina returned her look of surprise before shaking her head gently. What was happening to her wasn’t what had happened to Maleficent but Emma couldn’t know that yet. _Soon_ , she promised herself silently. _Soon_. "I don't know,” she told Emma instead.

"It'll be okay," Emma said, reaching for her hair. Emma's fingers ran through it before resting them on her neck.

"Since you're going to insist on getting up anyway," Emma began, "Let me help, okay?"

"I assure you, I can stand up," Regina argued, smiling a little. They had come so far, that showing weakness in front of Emma didn’t make her feel like she would break, like bleeding. It was just something to tease about.

Emma leaned close again, lowering her hands to Regina's. "You're letting me help so I don't worry," she said. "Not because you need me to. "

Her eyes were steady and serious, the edges of those pink lips curled in a careful, careful smile and that right there, was why Regina loved Emma.  In a room full of people who had been her prisoners and her enemies, her wary allies and possibly even cautiously her friends, some of whom had known Regina for decades, the one who truly _understood_  her was right here.  That understanding made whatever slightly acerbic remark Regina had been readying to fade away and instead she just turned her hands in Emma’s and let herself be helped up, even if she didn’t need it, even if she was perfectly capable of standing on her own, maybe the point was...she didn’t have to.

* * *

Henry returned a few moments later and Emma even took the bottle of water first, instead of insisting that Regina drink it. Henry's concern hadn't left his face, even though Regina stood straight without wavering and knew she probably looked better than she had yesterday. He said nothing though, just reporting to Emma while she chugged the bottle of water and Regina made a face.  Regina tried not to dwell on the fact that Emma’s immaturity was now something she found endearing rather than irritating. Some secrets, she would never ever reveal.

"Grandma wanted to know if we would check Mifflin Street and then head towards Main Street. No one's been that way yet."

Emma glanced at Regina who just nodded. They might as well, and she wanted to see how the mansion had fared.

Mal and Lily returned then, standing close together and Regina had to look away as her lungs tightened. When she glanced back, Mal’s expression was knowing and gentle.  It lasted only a second though, before she refocused on the situation at hand.  

"I'll teleport us over," Mal said. "Save the trouble of driving."

"Teleport?" Lily asked, eyes wide. Apparently dragons were a comfortable revelation but teleporting from one place to another was getting a bit much.  

"Like this," Mal said, barely giving Emma a chance to wrap her arm around Regina's back. Regina opened her mouth to tell Mal to wait but it was too late. Mal was too impatient (and too powerful) and Regina thought she might have sighed as that familiar feeling of ‘nothing’ and Mal’s familiar, sweet/hot magic  enveloped her.  

Mal had teleported much larger groups over much longer distances, and the moments of not being, of being between places, were comfortable darkness that didn't hurt and the landing was seamless, but Henry and Lily both still had to catch their breath when they arrived in the chaos of the Mifflin Street. Henry tried to pretend he wasn’t a little thrown but Lily didn’t bother, looking around in awe at where they were and then at her mother.

It immediately became apparent, however, that they had much more pressing matters.

Mifflin street was a disaster.

Regina felt her heart lurch in her chest at the damage to the street. Tree branches, leaves, pieces of wood, siding, shingles and other debris covered the pavement and sidewalks. Many of the neat trees and bushes that had lined the street had been half-ripped from their roots, their branches and leaves scattered. Regina squeezed Emma's hand, because this mess would take much to clean up, even with magic at their disposal, and she was suddenly afraid of what she might find when they got to her house. Emma looked back at her, green eyes worried, and Regina knew she was thinking the same thing.

Of them all, Mal was the least concerned, her magic surging as she waved her hand and the street to Regina's house cleared. The debris on the pavement faded away, and the leaves returned to the trees where they'd been stripped. It was more showy than substantial; they'd still need to need to check the water and gas lines beneath the street, and it would be a small miracle if the electricity worked. Not that Maleficent would think about that. She'd use magic, or candles, and make fun of Regina for worrying about the darkness.

"Think she'll fix the whole block to show off?" Emma said, just loud enough to make sure Mal caught it. Regina attempted a smile at Emma’s teasing, seeing the attempt to distract her for what it was, but the expression didn’t stick. There was a hard, cold knot in her throat and something heavy in her stomach that had nothing to do with her usual nausea.  

She needed to see her home, to make sure it was still intact.  

Her wish wasn’t granted.

Mal waved her hands and returned a downed tree back to its place alongside the road and alarm shot through the group as the branches revealed the feathered bodies of two harpies. They lay twisted and broken half on the sidewalk and half in the hedges at the edge of Regina’s property, not dead long enough to start stinking beyond the faint aroma of brimstone that clung to their kind even when they were alive.

Mal hissed, making Lily jump, Regina’s right hand curled instinctively, a fireball blooming as she stepped in front of Henry. Emma was at her side, white magic crackling over her skin like electricity and Regina could feel the tension in Emma’s body as she moved to protect Regina’s left side. They had all moved practically as one, cohesive as a team that had been working together for years. It felt good, right, solid in a way Regina had never experienced. It felt...foolish. Because the harpies were dead.

Emma’s shoulders dropped and Regina let her fire go, sharing a wry smile with Mal who brushed invisible lint off her coat.

WIth the shock of surprise gone, it was very clear the creatures were dead. Their metallic feathers were torn from the flesh of their wings, most that remained were ratty and bent, and the harpies hideous faces were battered. Ursula's storm had knocked them from the sky, and lashed them them hard against the ground.

Mal glared at them, then raised her hand and incinerated the bodies, turning them from flesh to ash in a burst of flame. "Not so fireproof now, are you?" she muttered, her expression dark. Their flesh withered with the inferno, but their claws remained behind, like dark knives in the fire with handles of bone.

Regina forced herself to watch, even though the fire only brought out the stench of brimstone more and now that the adrenaline had faded her stomach rolled in protest. When Emma’s hand reached for hers, Regina didn’t hesitate to take it, lacing their fingers and taking a slow, careful breath as Emma’s magic steadied her a little.

"They're not dangerous once they're dead," Mal promised, half to Henry, half to Lily, who stared into the fire as if it had a grip on her soul. Mal touched her shoulder, drawing her close, and they watched the flames together as the harpies burnt away. "There will be more. Ursula said they concentrated their attack on this section of town."

"They have the same stink as the beetles," Emma observed, wrinkling her nose and wrapping her other arm around Henry’s shoulder as he stared at the burning creatures.  Guilt pricked Regina for a moment. He shouldn’t have to see this, he shouldn’t be here.  Even as she thought it though, Regina recognized the look on Henry’s face; that hard, bright determination and unflinching stare. _Their son_. Always and forever their son.

Squeezing Emma’s hand a little tighter, Regina held back a sigh and turned to Mal.

"Summoned creatures," Regina said.

"So our summoner brought them too?" Emma asked, looking from Mal to Regina. "Why harpies?"

"They're fireproof," Mal replied, scowling with spite, even as the fire crackled behind them. "After we burnt the beetles, these were a logical choice. They’re stronger, more vicious, and immune to my best weapon. If Ursula hadn't have been here--" Mal trailed off,. "They'd started to overwhelm me through numbers alone. Ursula's storm was timely, and necessary. We'll need to add magical wards while we repair the town. Make sure that we're ready for the next attack."

Lily shook her head and kept her eyes on her mother. She looked slightly shell shocked, her eyes a little too wide as she avoided looking at the burning corpses, but she wasn’t running away or yelling, and Regina almost smiled. Their daughter was as stubborn as her parents. She wished there were time, time to let Lily adjust, time to just talk, to be together and tell her the whole truth of who her parents were, but time was the one thing they apparently did not have.  

"How do you know there will be another attack?"

"Always is, with someone like this. They start small, testing our defences, then come at us with something that defeats the first line." Mal sighed, weariness creeping into the set of her shoulders. “This is far from over.”

The group was silent for a moment, the weight of words like a portent hanging in the air and Regina knew the truth in them. Whatever or whoever was endangering the town, they were just getting started. With the threat of another harpy attack clearly not forthcoming, however, Regina felt that push against her ribs. She needed to keep going, to see her home.

“Emma,” she murmured quietly. The hand holding hers tightened and Emma looked at her.

“The mansion,” said softly.

Throat tight, Regina could only nod.

They walked together, their strange little group - family, really - Mal and Lily falling in like a rearguard and though it didn’t mean as much to Mal, Regina was grateful for the silent support.

She needed it.

The broken bushes seemed to part like a crumpled green curtain as they walked up to Regina’s driveway and the full extent of the storm’s damage was revealed. The entire group stumbled to a halt, or maybe it was just Regina, she couldn’t really be sure, the ground suddenly uneven beneath her feet.

The front porch of the mansion was almost completely collapsed, one of the white columns broken and crumbled onto the lawn. Her bushes were a disaster, flowers littering the trampled, muddy grass. Several windows were broken both upstairs and down, and the entire right hand upper corner of the roof had caved in.

Someone made a strangled noise and it was only when Emma’s face filled her vision that Regina realized it was her. She was barely aware of Mal putting her arm around Henry and saying something about scouting the rest of the house, all she could think about was her home. It had been the first place she had ever felt truly safe in this world.  It was her refuge, her castle, the place where she’d raised her son. Where she’d finally let Emma into her heart.

“Hey, hey, Regina listen to me,  we’ll fix it okay?” Emma was standing close, palms against her cheeks and thumbs stroking her skin. “I promise, I promise,” Emma said over and over until Regina finally managed to focus on her, turning to see not fear but fierce determination. With a shuddering sigh, she rested  her cheek against Emma's, using her as a shield until her composure was restored.  She could do this, her magic, Emma’s, Mal’s, she could fix this, but oh it hurt, as if some part of herself was damaged.  

“We’ll fix it, Regina I swear,” Emma said again, thumb tenderly wiping away the tear that made its way over Regina’s lashes.

“Yes, we will,” Mal’s voice, from behind  her and Regina straightened, turned. “Henry is with Lily, just checking the rest of the house. Its fine, only the front was damaged.” Mal’s voice was soft, and for just a moment she rested her fingers against Regina’s arm, the comforting warmth of her magic like sitting in front of a roaring fire, a hug without arms.

Swallowing hard, Regina nodded and stepped away. “Yes,” her voice cracked, she tried again. Better. “Yes, we will.”

“Mom?” Henry and Lily had returned and Regina opened her arms as soon as she saw her son’s face. “The back isn’t bad,” he said, voice slightly muffled nest to her ear.  She tightened her hold on his shoulders (when did he get so tall?) and felt Emma’s presence, near but not crowding.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, we’ll fix it.”

“Yeah we will,” Emma said, and  Regina could hear the cocky smile in her voice. “Might even get your mom to paint it some color besides boring old white.”

It was a cheap shot, but the intent more than the words were what mattered and Regina played her part. Turning, she glared at Emma. “Don’t even think of it Ms. Swan.” The sniping made Henry grin up at her and the pain Regina felt earlier bled away. This was what mattered. Her family, here. Safe. Everything else they could repair.

"This is going to have to wait though," Emma sighed, and the hand on Regina’s shoulder told her just how much Emma hated that. It was true though, keeping the town safe had to come first.  They needed the streets clear, and a perimeter. Making their house liveable again would have to wait until the town was better protected, even if that meant another night in the freezing gymnasium. She shuddered, and Emma's magic rose in response, warm and shifting through her like waves. Pulling Regina closer, Emma furrowed her forehead with concern but Regina shook her head subtly. She was alright.

“So, what now?” Henry asked, stepping away and shoving his hands in his coat pocket.

“Now we keep surveying for damage, check the rest of the street, stay close,” Regina said sternly.

"What about moving the stuff in the middle of the street, is just waving stuff away the most efficient way?" Emma asked, latching  onto a plan of action. It must have been hard for her to look at the damage to Regina’s house, harder still to see how much it hurt Regina and not try to fix it, right this instant.   Instead she concentrated on what needed to happen next, into repairing the town, because she needed to be busy as much as Regina did. This was their town, and their people needed the streets back so everyone could go home.

So she and Regina and Henry could go home.

"Don't think of it as banishing," Regina reminded her. "Think of it as returning to order. You're not taking it back in time, or getting rid of everything that's in the wrong place, you're putting things back, it's like a puzzle that wants to be solved. Don't force it, let everything guide you to where it should be."

"Except the harpies," Henry said, his distaste echoing Mal’s earlier. It lightened Emma's mood enough so that she gave him a wry smile.  "We should probably keep burning them."

"Lily can help with that,” Mal said, pride shining in the look  she gave their daughter. At the widening of Lily’s eyes, Mal shook her head. "Don't say you can't do it. They're dead, if you only half-crisp them or make them explode, I'll fix it." The way Lily smiled back, slow and then easier, glowing under her mother's approval, made Regina's chest tighten. They needed each other so much, and seeing them finally together meant everything.

“We can split up,” Regina said, forcing herself to think like a Mayor again. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“No.”

It came in stereo and all of them blinked, looking at each  other until Henry make a choked sound that was probably a smothered laugh and Lily’s lopsided smile made another appearance.  Emma, Mal and Regina looked at each other and Regina felt the heat of a flush on her skin. Emma’s cheeks were pink but her jaw was set. Mal just looked smug.

“All right, fine,” she gritted, pretending she was more annoyed than she really was. “We’ll stick together.”

"You should-" Emma started but stopped when Regina pulled away, shaking her head.

"Don’t say it,” Regina interrupted. “I'll rest when we have the streets clear. We can't fix our house yet and,” now she lowered her voice, pulling Emma a step away from the others, “I won’t be fussed over in front of an audience in that damn gymnasium any more than I have to be."  There was steel in her tone, the sharp edge that used to send peasants cowering in fear.

Emma smirked and looked back at Regina with an irritatingly familiar expression. The one thing Emma Swan had never been was afraid of her and Regina took a moment to seriously regret that. Only a moment though. A glance at the other members of their party showed she wasn’t getting any help from them either. Mal for once had no trace of humor on her face and Henry’s shoulders were set in that stubborn line that reminded Regina all too much of his birth mother.  Regina resisted the urge to sigh. Emma and Henry didn't even have to know about the baby to be concerned. They’d be insufferable once they knew.

‘You like it,’ a quiet voice that sounded a lot like Mal whispered in her mind. Regina ignored it, even if it wasn’t lying.

“I’m fine, Emma. I promise. For now. And I promise I’ll tell you if I’m not,” she finished softly.

"Okay," Emma agreed, her expression softening. "But we stay together."

"Don't give in too easily," Mal muttered as she walked past Emma, heading back toward the street.

Regina would have glared after her, but though it galled her, Mal was probably right. Regina knew very little about magical pregnancy, and while her first instinct was always to hide her weakness and project as much strength as she could, she wasn’t alone anymore, and had her family to think about. A family that didn’t just include the child she was carrying, but Emma and their son. She hated it. A lifetime of harsh lessons insisted to her that this was wrong but...Emma’s soft gaze and her hand steady and warm in Regina’s own. Henry’s arms around  her waist and his simple faith in her ability to make everything right again.  Mal’s steady strength.  Lily, who didn’t know her but would. A new life she wouldn’t meet for sometime but was already so very important to  her.

If it meant keeping this, keeping them, she could push aside those instincts, those voices that sounded like her mother and Rumple and a long defeated Evil Queen telling her this would be her downfall.

Maybe this was temporary, and it would become more manageable, but maybe worse symptoms would follow. She needed to research her condition, see if there was anything in the library, because magical books sometimes found a way to appear there after the curse had broken. There had to be something that had more knowledge than Mal's cryptic explanation of a life spark caught flame.

If her gnawing fever was this life trying to establish itself by feeding on her magic, as Mal had said, hopefully it would fade, in time. Did she have enough magic? Was it the right type? Perhaps the child was taking all the light magic she possessed, which was what made her so very tired but still able to call a fireball when she wanted one. Magic was hardly quantifiable, but there had to be a more concrete explanation somewhere than what Mal had been able to give her.  They needed to face this together, and if it didn't work, didn't take, she'd need Emma, because she couldn't face that emptiness alone, not now that she knew what she could lose.

“Together,” she squeezed Emma’s hand and they turned and followed Mal back to the street, away from her damaged home.

* * *

Emma’s superpower had been a little glitchy ever since moving to Storybrooke, but she could still always count on it to know when Regina was lying and today, she'd been hiding something. Emma couldn't pin it down, and if Regina hadn't been so sick she would have fought harder to get it out of her, not because she didn’t trust the other woman, but because whatever secret she carried, it was obviously weighing on  her. Regina hadn’t been more than a step from Emma all day. At first, she thought that Regina was just humoring her, sticking close because she knew Emma worried, but as they searched the town, cleaning the streets as they went, Emma realised that Regina needed her because she was afraid of something.

Emma understood fear. It had been her constant companion for much of her childhood. She knew how it made people react and how far it could drive them. Fear had made Emma give up her son. It had driven Regina into the arms of Rumple and his manipulations.  When Emma was afraid she ran, and when Regina was afraid, she lashed out and both of them were very, very bad at admitting to fear, Regina even more so than Emma. She’d watched Regina all day, hoping but somehow knowing it wasn’t just the fear of damage to the mansion (and god that had hurt, not just Regina’s anguish but that house...that house was home to Emma now too and seeing it so battered...).  While Regina never said anything, she also didn’t fight very hard when Emma demanded she rest, and promised she would tell Emma if something was wrong and that, frankly, scared the shit out of Emma.

Because they might have been working a lot on this whole ‘being together’ thing, but this was still Regina, still the woman with the highest walls Emma had ever met, and no matter how deeply their bond went now, Emma knew better than most how the past could never totally be erased. The woman by her side was the same one who had worn high heels even with a sprained ankle.  It wasn’t that she was weak. Most everyone beyond their immediate family probably wouldn’t notice anything amiss, or if they did, they’d simply chalk it up to Regina’s lingering illness. But Emma knew Regina. She knew the difference. This wasn’t simple misery over an upset stomach and fever, this was fear, and if Regina was afraid, Emma was terrified, because Emma was wholly, completely in love with Regina, so much so that it almost made her dizzy if she thought about it too much. Loving people hurt. They left, they failed you, or worse: they didn't want you anymore.

Regina wanted her. It was the one thing Emma was completely certain of. Regina loved Henry and wanted Emma. It was the true North of Emma’s life these days, somehow Regina became the solid ground beneath  her feet and the one she could always count on to tell her the truth.

Except now.

It was the hardest thing Emma had ever done, but instead of pushing, of demanding answers, she waited. She was learning, slowly, how to be with someone. And that meant doing whatever she could to make Regina feel safe.  She was rewarded with Regina’s closeness, and the way their hands entwined, and Emma told herself over and over again, this was enough. For now, it was enough.

They all poofed back to town where Mal, Emma and Regina began repairing the worst of the damage, and Lily took care of the Harpy carcasses they found. Henry they sent back - over his protests - to the school to check in with Snow and Charming and see if they needed supplies for the night.

By the time  they’d walked the length of Main Street, Regina stopped using her magic to repair the pavement and rested her hand on Emma's arm, catching her breath. Emma finished alone, clearing the debris from the street. It was safe enough for cars, and none of the buildings were in danger of collapse, that was what they needed. Regina leaned on her, her fingers clutching Emma’s arm tight enough Emma knew she was exhausted.  

The protective knot of worry in Emma's stomach flared hot, and she stopped, looking for somewhere to sit down.  "We're going to sit," Emma said, forcing herself to smile, "because I'm tired, not because you are."

"I see," Regina answered, and her lips curled, just a little as she straightened.  

Emma led them to the wooden bench in front of Granny's. After Regina sat, Emma turned, repairing the shattered windows in diner with glowing magic and a few waves of her hands before she joined Regina on the damp wood of the bench.  It was oddly quiet on the street, totally deserted as almost everyone was still in the shelter of the school until it was deemed safe to come out. Mal and Lily were the only people out, farther down the street taking care of the Library and a pile of harpies. In the aftermath of the storm it was a clear day, cool, but not too cold and the sky was bright blue. Emma scooted close to Regina and wrapped her arm around the smaller woman, trying to keep the worry down when Regina let herself be pulled close against  Emma’s side.

"I don't know how long I'll need to recover, so we're just going to sit here for awhile," Emma said, leaning back in the sunshine, Regina snuggled in against her.

They sat in silence for a while, the sun warming Emma’s muscles,  easing some of the tension from earlier. But Regina didn’t relax. Instead she stayed almost huddled against Emma’s side and finally Emma couldn’t wait  any longer.

“Regina?”

“Hmm?”

"Will you please tell me what's wrong?" Emma asked softly, carefully, because she'd passed the point where she could wait but she didn’t want to back Regina into a corner.  Her hand smoothed gentle circles up and down Regina’s arm, keeping her close but ready to let go if Regina needed space and wishing so very deeply that whatever was wrong it could be fixed as easily as the window behind them.

Regina sat silent, but she didn’t pull away and Emma tried again. " Does Mal know what's wrong with you? Is it...are you sick?"

Regina straightened at that, turning to Emma, still pale and the color on her cheeks too  bright but the shake of her head was emphatic. “No, no,  its not that. I’m not...I’m not ill.  But it’s...I - “ she trailed off and Emma reached for her hand, their fingers coming together out of  habit.

"You've got me," Emma reminded her. "I'm here, and Henry, and our dragons, even my parents as annoying as I’m sure  that is for you, whatever you need, we're here. We're all here. You know that, right?"

Some of the tightness bled from Regina’s shoulders and her eyes flicked down then back to Emma’s and she nodded, a rueful smile flickering across her lips at the mention of Snow and Charming.

“So if it’s not bad then - “

Regina looked around them, at the empty street and the broken shops and let out a breath like she’d been underwater.

"I'm pregnant."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma reacts to being a mother in a way she didn't expect, Lily figures out who her other mother is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much thanks to Race and Wapwani for reading and fixing and being so wonderful.

Most of the moments in Emma’s life where she had been completely and truly shocked had not resulted in good memories. Surprises were very quickly associated with other kids in foster homes stealing her things, or being sent away from another family. There was the numb disbelief of being arrested, Neal long gone, and the terrifying appearance of a letter from the prison medical staff.  The few times she was truly surprised in her bounty hunting days resulted in several of the scars on her skin and a dislocated shoulder.  Finding out magic was real and she was the Saviour, responsible for everyone’s happy endings had taken her a long time to come to terms with.  Even her son showing up on her doorstep had been...confusing, and terrifying, at least at first.

Maybe that’s why Emma froze, staring at Regina like she’d never seen her before. And maybe she never had, not like this, because the smile that dawned on Regina’s face was...tender and bright as the sun and so many other things that Emma’s poor overworked brain really couldn't catalogue in the moment. Speaking, breathing, all those basic human functions were suddenly alien to her as she tried to process those two words and the feeling they evoked, like there was a balloon in her chest, pushing her heart up and her ribs out, and where did all the air go?

Not even in the grip of the dragon fire spell had she experienced this much emotion. She wanted to smile and shout and possible dance but no, not dance because Regina would make fun of her but definitely shout and kiss Regina, kiss Regina a lot...Even her internal thought process was babbling and Emma was distantly aware she probably was gaping like a fish but she couldn’t help it.

“What?” she managed at last, the word coming out cracked and broken and oh, no, it came out wrong because the joy, the careful happiness was sliding off Regina’s face and she started to pull back, curling in on herself and retreating. Emma could almost see her walls, the ones that had been torn down between them, being rebuilt, brick by brick, dimming the light in Regina’s eyes and replacing it with fear and Emma panicked.

“We’re...I mean you’re….really?” she whispered, still grasping desperately for the right words and kicking herself because it was such a pathetic question, so meaningless, but she couldn't think.  Except maybe it wasn’t quite so meaningless because as stupid as it was, Emma's stumbling for words seemed to bring a flicker of something better, brighter, back to Regina's dark eyes and carefully, she nodded.

Emma's smile rose from her heart, bubbling up until it felt like her face couldn’t contain it and she realised that pressure, that incredible something inside her was joy.   Pure, untainted joy.  This little family of theirs was perfect -  Regina and Henry - were perfect, but even though Regina had given Emma the gift of memories, of holding Henry and changing diapers and first steps and holidays...no matter how much care and - Emma now realised love - had gone into those memories they weren’t hers. Not really. Her hands had never cradled Henry, rocking him to sleep. She’d never helped him with his homework, never checked his forehead for a fever or kissed him goodnight and tucked him in. Regina had done all that, and she’d done amazingly, and alone.  

Henry was their own not-so-little miracle and Emma knew she’d be grateful her entire life for the  mother who raised her son, but she hadn’t realised until now how badly she wished that she’d been part of his childhood, how much she’d wanted to be with Regina through all the firsts, and the joy and the fear. To have someone to share it all with...and now, they had that chance. A chance to know this child from before she was born, to see her first breath,  to hold her when she cried, to watch  her take her first steps and be there for all the moments afterward.  This time Emma could be a part of that, and this time, Regina wouldn’t be alone.

This time...a  sharp twist of shame burrowed in Emma’s chest as she thought about her first year in Storybrooke, about how she’d hurt Regina so deeply, encouraging Henry to pull away from his mother. She could see now, so clearly, how she’d failed, not just as herself, as someone who grew up in the foster system and  knew just how damn amazing it was that Regina had found Henry, loved him and cared for him, but as the Saviour. Her role had been to bring happy endings back to Storybrooke and it had taken her far, far too long to realise that the one person most desperately in need of happiness, was Regina.

They were better now, all of them, their patchwork little family strong and whole, but Emma silently swore the mistakes she had made would never be repeated. When the time came for their child to know about her family history, she would never have a chance to think of her mother as ‘Evil.’  Hurt yes, someone who had made mistakes - just as Emma herself had - but not Evil. There weren’t going to be Saviours and Queens this time around. Just two moms and a wonderful older brother, doing the best they could.

Caught up in her own thoughts, it took Emma five heartbeats too long to realize Regina was still quiet, still looking at her with too much reserve at the corners of her mouth and suddenly Emma  realized she might have made a huge mistake already. Because she hadn’t even asked - they hadn’t planned - Emma knew how awful it was to be pregnant and to be afraid...

"Do you...do you want to keep it?" her voice shook, and all that happiness quivered in her stomach because suddenly it wasn’t certain, suddenly it was all just possibility again. But she'd never force, never push. If Regina didn't want this baby, that was it, there wouldn’t be a baby, even if Emma wanted this, wanted to share this with Regina, more than she had any idea that she could, if Regina didn't want this, then Emma wouldn't think about it. Her eyes stung but she kept herself still, kept looking at Regina trying to convey that she would be there for her no matter what.

And because she was looking she saw the flicker of determination, the way Regina straightened, just a little, saw the ‘Yes’ even before the other woman opened her mouth. Emma saw possibility become reality and she sagged, that stupid stupid smile on her face again as Regina reached out and took her hand, guiding it to rest against the warm wool of her coat just below her navel.

“Yes.”

"Yeah?" Emma whispered, gently slipping  her hand beneath Regina’s coat until only her shirt separated their skin and she stroked small circles with her thumb.

"So much."

Emma laughed then, or maybe it was a sob, but it didn’t matter because it was a happy noise, and the way Regina’s face lit up into a smile that wasn’t careful anymore, just bright like the sun. Emma kissed her then, because that was easier than talking. A lot easier. There weren’t words for this, or at least Emma couldn’t find them so she tried to say everything with the press of her lips  against Regina’s, with the way she pulled Regina close, resting her forehead against Regina’s temple.  

"Then it's perfect," she whispered softly. With her hand still pressing against Regina’s stomach and her other arm around her shoulders, Emma closed her eyes and let her magic say what she couldn’t find the words for. Sinking down, down into the core of herself like Regina taught her, she pulled from that bright, shining mass of family and love and happy and not alone never alone again and let it flow into her veins and out through her skin and into Regina, until the chilled breeze and the cold air whipping off the ocean couldn’t even be felt, as if they were sprawled on a high grassy hill beneath the hot summer sun, lazy and languorous and suffused with warmth.

“Oh, Emma,” Regina sighed and Emma felt Regina’s magic rise up to meet hers, a rush of happiness so deep and pure it took her breath away. Regina softened against her side, turning to press her face close to Emma’s and Emma just held her and breathed as their magic hummed between them.

Silence descended again, easy and comfortable this time and Emma breathed it in, tried to hold on to it as tightly as she could. If she had learned anything in Storybrooke, it was that peace wasn’t lasting. This moment, with Regina in her arms, happy, this moment Emma wanted to make last as long as possible.

They lost track of how long they sat there like that, but eventually Regina straightened a little, her hand pressing to Emma’s where it still rested against her stomach and she grimaced slightly.

“Well that answers that question. I’ll be honest, I'm kind of glad you're pregnant instead of me," Emma said, watching the way Regina furrowed her brow . "I didn't like it much."

"It's not that pleasant so far," Regina agreed, but her smile and the shine in her eyes said the opposite.

Emma stroked her hand up and down Regina’s back, wishing she could do more,  "So it's little magic baby here that's made you sick?" She put a teasing note in her voice and got a half-hearted eyeroll for her efforts before Regina turned serious again, considering.

"Mal thinks so. The nausea might have been from the town line, or some kind of combination of the two." She met Emma's gaze with such affection that Emma had to fight her own tears. No one had ever looked at her like that, no one but Regina loved her with her heart so free. "The fever's definitely the baby."

Emma kissed her hot forehead. "When does it stop?"

"When it takes, when it's secure." Regina looked down, staring at their hands instead of into Emma's eyes. "Magical pregnancies can be... precarious, especially at first. Mal was sick too, with Lily, and she's so much stronger than I am."

"Regina, when you compare yourself to a dragon it's not really about who's stronger," Emma reminded her. She tilted Regina's chin up, wanting to see her eyes. "Will it be easier because we're both human?"

That helpless look returned to Regina's face. "I don't know. Mal--"

"Might know," Emma finished for her, then sighed. "So, we have a dragon you knocked up thirty-some years ago in another world as our best resource?" Emma’s lips quirked in a smile. Honestly, what was her life?

"Well I highly doubt Dr. Whale learned anything about magical pregnancies in 19th century Bavaria," Regina replied, and her words had bite in them.

Emma stroked her shoulder and nodded. She knew Regina had good reasons to distrust Whale, and frankly Emma herself didn’t want the man within fifty yards of either Regina or any child of theirs. Mal though, Mal she trusted. As weird as that still was on some level Emma knew Mal would protect Regina the best she could. They were heading into unknown territory, and maybe it would have been easier not to worry if Regina hadn't been sick. Being sort of nauseated and tired, Emma remembered, but fevers and vomiting - beyond a little morning sickness - hadn't been part of her pregnancy. "Is this common in the other world? Will there be books or something about it? Anyone we can ask?"

Regina shook her head. "Maleficent told me that Lily was a complete shock to her, so I think even among magical creatures, this is rare."

"So between us humans..." Emma joked back. "When I said we were unique this isn’t quite what I meant.”

Regina’s glare was getting closer to full strength now and Emma grinned, unrepentant for a moment before sobering.

“I get it. Would the fairies know anything? You did save them from the hat, so they kind of owe you one. We could ask them, if you want,” she offered it carefully though, knowing that Regina’s history with the fairies was complicated, and unlike her parents, Emma shared Regina’s distrust of fairies. She didn’t know the whole story - and made a mental note to have a long conversation with Regina about this later - but she didn’t believe their intentions were always pure.

Taking her fingers and holding them tight, Regina glanced down again, fear and anger tightening the space between her shoulders. "No,” Regina said, voice hard and clipped. “Not the fairies at least...not Blue. I am not trusting Rheul Ghorm with the knowledge of our child.” Emma just nodded in agreement, relieved not only at Regina’s decision but at the determination in her whole posture. Snippy, angry Regina was reassuring, and more than a little endearing and Emma had to work not to smile at that. Oh how far they’d come.

That anger didn’t last long though and Emma watched carefully as Regina’s thoughts clearly turned toward something else. She knew almost before Regina started speaking what she was about to say. There was only one person who could bring that look of raw, heartbreaking love to Regina’s face. “I want...I want to tell Henry, but I don't know, I don't think I'm ready. I might- I might still lose it. It's not certain yet." Though she didn’t move, Regina seemed to curl inward and Emma tightened her hold.

"We'll keep it quiet," Emma said, trying to give Regina whatever strength she could with another kiss to her temple. "But we should tell Henry. No matter what happens, he should know.”

Regina’s hand squeezed hers briefly. “All right but... how?”

Emma knew a lot about Regina. Some of it learned in anger, some in fascination, a lot of it in love. But she knew with absolute certainty that Regina Mills admitting she didn’t know how to do something was huge, was a sign of how scared Regina was. So Emma did what she did best, and acted like the confident idiot Regina needed.

"Pretty standard, I imagine," she said brightly. "Hey, kid, so, I knocked up your mom and you're getting another sibling to go with your dragon half-sister. Hope that's not too weird for you."

Regina made a strangled sound that was half laugh, half something else and Emma felt just a tiny bit of accomplishment. It didn’t last long though, the humor fading from Regina’s face to be replaced by a frown, by a fear Emma hated, even if she understood its source. "Will he be okay?" Regina whispered.

Emma hated that whisper, hated the tremor and the fear, because she knew Regina wasn’t asking just for Henry. She was asking because what if this drove another wedge between mother and son. What if he didn’t understand and was angry at her again.  Emma  knew, she understood now, Regina’s deepest fear was still Henry’s rejection, knew it was the one thing that had the power to destroy the woman in her arms, no matter how resilient her heart.

She’d already made the promise silently to herself, this time she made it to Regina. Shifting, Emma cupped Regina’s face in her palms, gently bringing her eyes up. “Listen to me, you know I keep my promises, so I’m telling you, I promise you, Henry will be happy. He loves you, Regina, more than anything. And he knows you love him too. Henry isn’t like me, he’ll never see himself as being replaced. You did that. You loved him so well. He'll be surprised, but he’s not going to be hurt. We’ll make sure of that. He’s going to be the best big brother ever, just you wait. He’ll be happy that we’re happy.”

Emma let a little of her magic go, pouring into Regina so she could feel not just hear. It made her shiver, made those dark, dark eyes shine and her lips curl upwards and there was so much hope on Regina’s face. It took Emma’s breath away.  

"And we're happy?" The way she asked the question was so soft, so full of awe that all Emma could do was wrap  her arms around Regina, pulling her close and hugging her tight.

"We are, we really are."

* * *

 

  


The gym was less full on the second night, Lily was pleased to note.  Maleficent, Regina and Emma had been busy repairing as many homes as they could, but it was a big town, so while some residents were able to return to their homes, many were still packed into the emergency shelter.  Her mom was powerful, and Lily had watched her repair houses with a wave of her hands, but she wasn’t inexhaustible and Regina had tired quickly, while Emma had more worried about Regina than the rest of the town.

Maleficent joked about her power, but accepted the thanks of the townsfolk almost shyly, like she wasn't used to being thanked. She'd been alone a long time, Lily recognised the signs, the way she always seemed to hold herself apart. There was so much Lily wanted to know about her mom’s life, about her father, if she had any family out there...but she knew it would have to wait until they weren’t all fighting...whatever it was they were fighting. And honestly that was probably the weirdest thing about this whole mess. It didn’t actually feel that weird. This town, magic, being a dragon, having a whole different form (apparently, she hadn’t tried what Mal called the ‘Change’ yet) Lily felt like she belonged, for the first time in her whole life, her skin didn’t feel too small. Some of that might have been how close she stuck by her mom. Something about Maleficent’s scent, her proximity promised safety and shelter. Lily knew that she was her mother, and with her, she was safe, down to her bones. That must have been her dragon side, that reptilian other that she hadn't gotten to know fully yet, but could feel it ever since she crossed the town line and met her mom, simmering, sleeping, just beneath her thoughts.

Maleficent was a step behind her as they walked into the gym and immediately scanned the room. Lily guessed who she was looking for and sure enough, as soon as she caught sight of Emma and Regina she moved across the room. As scary powerful as her mother might be, it was obvious she loved Lily. And it was just as obvious that she cared - maybe even loved Regina, Henry and Emma, protecting them too as if they were family.  

From the way she looked at Regina, the way her mother curled up next to her when Regina had been cold, it was clearly they had a past, which Lily found wasn’t nearly as strange as everything else she’d learned. They hadn’t talked about it yet, but whatever their relationship it seemed it was still really important to both of them, and Emma seemed to be okay with it. Whatever their history was, they were close now, comfortable. Which was just another weird part of her suddenly very strange life.

Watching her mom stand close to Regina, reaching up to brush her fingers across Regina’s cheek, then turn and talk to Emma, Lily realised she could tell that Regina was still flushed from fever, even across the gym. Lily had never needed glasses in the old world, the world outside of Storybrooke, but here, it was like having whole new eyes.  At first she’d thought she had good eyesight, but listening to the way everyone else talked and how slowly they noticed anything she realised her sight was extraordinary.  The same was true of her hearing, and her sense of smell: all of her was more alert, more aware, and it had only gotten more noticeable with every day she passed in Storybrooke.  Her mother had told her that she would have to learn her senses again, because they were all better than she'd thought they were, but now Lily was beginning to truly appreciate what that meant.  

When she really concentrated, her eyes flashed and went gold. Her mom said hers did the same thing, but Maleficent was so good at controlling it that her eyes rarely went dragon. Lily was so distracted by everyone around her that hers kept changing, all the time. She could feel the other her, rising within and filling her with power that probably should have been scary but it just felt good, she felt strong, sure of herself, but not in that weird disconnected way that had happened the few times she’d done drugs or gotten really drunk.  Now she just felt like more of herself.

Her mother promised that she would learn to control it, and then looked so sad that she hadn’t been able to teach her when she was young, the way Maleficent had been taught. In the few moments of quiet between repairing buildings, Maleficent had told Lily that she had borne her as a dragon, and her earliest memories were of her nest. Learning to be human came later, because it was a different time. Being a dragon had been safer, when Mal was young, because humans didn’t dare challenge dragons then. There were many dragons then, and they often lived close to each other in family units. But times changed, and humans grew better at magic, better at killing dragons. It became dangerous to stay together and dragon kind had scattered, growing apart and learning to hide among the humans. Lily had been born a weak, human baby, because no one should have known she was a dragon, no one should have wanted to take a human baby from her mother.

Except that was exactly what had happened.

Lily knew anger, knew its heat and the way it could tighten her muscles and make her palms itch for the shape of a fist. But what rose inside her when she thought about Emma’s...about Snow and Charming (she couldn’t think of them as Emma’s, not now,  not after what she’d seen, felt). That anger rose from the same place as the love for her mother, the same place that could scent Regina from across the room and see the gentleness in Emma’s eyes whenever Emma looked at Regina. It scared her that anger, because it was deep and old...and deserved. The Charmings had stolen her away from her mother, her family.  She knew the scent of them still, after all these years, even across worlds, and while she didn’t remember their faces, the way they smelled set her on edge.

It was too easy to want to lash out at them - not with fists, it wasn’t that kind of quick shallow surface anger - but words. She wanted to tell them what they’d done to  her, make them hear all the ways she’d been alone all her life, the confusion and the fear and the way she never truly belonged.

But then she looked at Emma, at the way Emma carried herself - like she was always expecting a fight - she watched with her magically enhanced eyes and saw the agony on Snow’s face as her daughter turned her face away and concentrated on Regina, she saw the guilt when Snow looked at her or Mal and some part of Lily admitted that perhaps the people who had done this to her had paid - were still paying.

Not enough though, not yet. And so rather than start something there could be no hope of resolving now, she'd avoided them, not trusting herself to speak with them without demanding answers for the mess they'd made of her life.

It was different with Emma. Thankfully, it was easy to see her as distinct from her  parents. Maybe it was just that Lily saw more now, or maybe she was truly grateful to Emma for coming and finding her, or maybe it was just that more than anyone Lily understood Emma’s  past and the mistakes they’d both made as children, lost  and afraid  in a world that wasn’t theirs.

Either way it made being around her and  Regina  easy, comfortable, safe in the same way Charming and Snow were threatening. Regina especially. That other  part of her - the dragon that was getting easier to accept with every passing hour and being with her mom - was drawn to Regina, wanted to be near her and get to know  her.

Since Emma seemed okay with that, even quietly supportive, Lily silently promised herself she’d try harder to get to know the beautiful woman her mom and Emma cared so much about.

Just as long as the Charmings weren’t near by.

* * *

 

 

They weren’t in the gym long this time. As soon as Mal finished talking to Emma (the result of the conversation had Emma looking hopeful and Regina scowling) Mal turned and walked back toward Lily. She looked more relaxed than she had earlier almost satisfied, although that might have just been a result of her wearing her own clothes  again. They’d made a short stop at Mom’s house first thing that day so she didn’t have to wear Snow White’s gym clothes any longer. Lily hadn’t really been surprised that Mom’s house was a weird, stone, castle-like place on a cliff top. Either she was so overwhelmed her mind  had just shut down, or everything in this place, no matter how weird, was so right that it didn’t scare her.   Lily resolved to ask her about it but at that moment her mom reached for her, and the question fled Lily’s mind as she took Mal’s hand and the now-familiar feeling of her mom’s magic engulfed them.

They arrived outside a crypt that Mal explained was Regina’s vault as she waved her hand and the heavy metal door swung open.  They were searching for ingredients for some kind of spell and Lily looked around with fascination. It was kind of ridiculously stereotypical and she almost smiled. Half burned candles, old musty tomes, locked chests. It looked exactly like some movie set.

Her mom wasn’t smiling though, but looking through a pile of scrolls with purpose.  It wasn’t a healing spell, those didn’t seem to need eyes of newt or...whatever it was Mal had just pulled out of a jar in the corner and crystals. Whatever this was was more complicated.

“What kind of spell?” Lily asked after Mal had been silent for a moment, staring down at an opened trunk. Her mom seemed to start a little, as if she’d been lost in thought.

“One to ease Regina’s sickness,” she replied at last.

“But not a healing spell?” Lily wasn’t sure why she needed to know but that other part of her  pushed, and so she let it. This was something with Emma, and the more Lily thought about it as she watched her mom collect things, the more the idea, as weird as it was, started to come together.

“No, this is...different,” Mal said.

“So, Emma can ease some of Regina’s symptoms, but not make her better, with this spell?” she asked, holding a wooden box as her mom stacked it full of weird dried stuff in bottles.

Mal glanced at her, sharp and then softening. “It’s a binding spell, it emphasises their connection, which should ease Regina’s reaction to what’s happening to her,” her mom explained, but it was a non answer. Mom was good at those.

“What kind of magic is it?” Lily wondered, lifting one of the bottles to stare at the shining dust within. “What’s this?”

“Sand from the sacred cave of Wonders, don’t drop it,” her mom said, digging through a cupboard.

“And Regina?”

“What about Regina?”

Lily rolled her eyes, because her mother knew exactly what she wanted to know but wasn't answering that question. “What’s making her sick?”

Maleficent studied her. “Her body is struggling with a very powerful kind of magic...for now anyway.”

“But Emma can help her?” Lily continued to pry. She didn’t understand why this was so important to her, it wasn’t just curiosity. Something in her wanted Regina to be okay.  

“I hope so,” her mother said. She met Lily’s eyes and then seemed to come to some sort of decision. Pausing in her search she stepped close, reaching out to brush  her fingers over Lily’s  cheek, her expression sad. “Regina’s condition can be very difficult, if managed alone. With a partner, a mate, it’ll be easier on her, and the risk will be lessened.” A flicker of a smile crossed her lips  and then she was moving again, picking up a last small leather bound book and walking toward the stairs.

Lily followed her mother out of the vault into the wreck of the forest. Trees lay everywhere, some fallen on the vault, some blocking the trails: it was a good thing they didn’t walk. “Risk of what?”   

Mal stopped, her shoulders dropping slightly and Lily heard her  sigh.  When she finally spoke, her voice was cracked and rough and when she turned back to Lily, her eyes shone with unshed tears. “The risk of losing her child.”

Somehow Lily had known, things clicking into place.

“Regina’s pregnant?” but the question was just a formality.

Mal nodded. “You’ve smelled it already.”

“She smells like Emma,” Lily answered, strangely unsurprised that two women could make a magic baby. In a world with dragons and fairies, she was just going to accept it and move on, and honestly the way those two looked at each other Lily couldn’t really say it was much of a shock. “I thought that was because they fucked, a lot.”

Her words startled a laugh from her mother, the sound both sharp and deep and Lily smiled because she hadn't heard that before. She'd always remembered her mother as beautiful, but intangible somehow, not quite real. In person, she was more visceral than anyone had a right to be.

“That might be the case, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Lily knew that was a ‘use your dragon senses’ question, so she closed her eyes and pushed away everything but the scent of Regina, and the strangeness in it. She was covered in Emma, as most couples seemed to be wrapped in each other, but that wasn’t it, there had been something else, like new earth, or the first tender flames of a bonfire. What would be part of both of them and new?

It hit her like a falling branch. That was what pregnancy smelt like? That strange newness, and blood and water.

“That's what that is?" She asked, staring at her mother. "I thought-" Lily stopped, shaking her head, "Actually, I had no idea what that was."

“It takes time to know what your senses tell you, but yes, that is what pregnancy smells like,” her mom said, reaching for Lily’s shoulder and beaming with pride. “And?”

“Emma’s the dad? I mean, the other mom, the--“

Now Mal’s chuckle was soft and understanding. “It’s exceptionally rare among humans but magic allows for the creation of life in ways more varied than those thought traditionally possible,” Mom explained, toying with the sleeve of her shirt.  

“But people don’t get all feverish when they’re pregnant. I mean, the throwing up makes sense, but why--“ Lily trailed off, trying to make something out of a whole mess of facts that didn’t have any logic to them at all. “Magical pregnancy is harder than the regular kind?”

“Creating life with flesh and blood is difficult and precarious enough, adding magic makes it rare and even more difficult.  The child will demand a great deal of Regina, and because life - the creation of life with magic is...chaotic” Mal’s smile was wistful for a moment and Lily had a feeling that was a memory she shouldn’t ask about. “It’s in...flux. Though the baby will be human, it’s  not the same as a child born of seed and blood. This is magic, and there is always a price to be paid.” Mom looked so sad in that moment that Lily wanted to reach out and hug her, but her arms were full of supplies. It lasted only a moment though and then Mal  wiped her eyes dry and her face moved into a funny sort of lopsided grin as she stared at Lily with such incredible tenderness. “It can be brutal, but it’s worth it.” 

Lily knew then that her mother was talking about her own experience, knew what it was like to be pregnant through magic. Which just served to raise a whole lot of new questions. Did that mean she had another mother? She'd already started to wonder who her father was, but if her mother had been pregnant through magic, then she had another mother. “So I wasn’t some kind of draconic one night stand?” Lily wondered aloud, then stopped, realising that her mom might take that the wrong way. “I don’t mean--“

Mom looked down, just for a moment, then crossed her arms over her chest. “When you were conceived, I was very much in love, as was she, I believe, but circumstances were...not in our favour.”  Mal opened her mouth as if to say more then shook her  head,  gesturing into the woods, back towards the town, ending that part of the conversation, at least for the moment. “Ready?”

Lily nodded, getting closer so that they could teleport together, then she stopped, holding the little box close to her chest. Mom had confirmed what she thought, she had another mother, and Lily was fairly certain that she knew who her mother had to be. They had the same hair and the same eyes.   “She never got to cast this spell for you, did she?”

“No,” her mother replied, and then her hand rested on Lily’s back, warm and comforting. “But I regret no part of that experience, even being ill, because I had you, and I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Lily couldn’t look at her for a long time, and even when she did, it still didn’t seem real. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Mom answered, her face all soft and full of affection that Lily didn’t deserve.  Putting aside the spell ingredients for a moment Mal reached up and cupped Lily’s face, kissing her forehead softly. “So very, very much. Never doubt that.” Her words, her touch, it was so gentle, Lily felt the sting of tears at  the corners of her own eyes  and sniffed wetly.

Mal seemed to understand it was almost too much because she pulled back, picked up her things and continued. “Regina’s only human, though, so if we can spare her the brunt of this experience, it would be a blessing.”

Nodding, Lily took another step closer, then her mother wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close again, making her feel so safe and protected. Still together, her mother teleported them away, back to the gym.

* * *

 

This time when they returned  to the gym, surrounded by all the strange people who lived in this odd little town, she took in the scents, concentrating harder and trying to let her other mind sort them out. Regina had her own familiar scent, dark and rich, almost like cinnamon, and Emma, bright and bold, and the melding of them together, like rain and smoke and the breeze off the ocean. It was comforting somehow, seeing them together, like this was how they belonged. It made Lily smile. Emma Swan, the girl she had known so long ago, had finally found her family.  Someday soon, she and Emma were going to have to talk but for now Lily was content just to watch. She had her mother now, had proof that she had always belonged somewhere and always been wanted and while she couldn’t forgive Emma’s parents yet, for a little while, this was enough.  She was glad to see Emma so happy. The girls they’d been...Lily remembered so much fear and loneliness in Emma’s eyes,  it was good to see it gone.

Letting her mom lead through the crowd, Lily  followed while she tried to make sense of the nuances in the way Regina smelt. There was a sharp scent too, something not like sulphur, not like the harpies, but still wrong somehow, the way the wounded had smelled wrong yesterday, beneath the heaviness of blood. Was that illness? Inflammation? She just didn’t know enough to be able to tell.  

Regina and Emma sat together at one of the long cafeteria tables, Henry beside Emma, with some of other residents across from them. Emma's parents were gone, probably back in their home, which made it easier to be around the strangers. Her mother insisted that for the most part these were good people, and they were Regina's, so Lily would trust them, as much as she ever trusted anyone, which was not much. Still it was more than she had given people out in the other world. Strange to realise she was already thinking of the place she’d grown up and lived her whole life as the ‘other’ world. Strange but right.

This was home, these people and this town and her mother.  Even Emma in a way. 

Her mother sat down next to the oldest woman, Granny, whom she seemed to get along with, because she'd let her close when she was wounded. Lily put the wooden box of spell components to the side, by Emma and Regina's things. She could have sat down, looked at the maps with everyone else and talked about the streets that still needed clearly, and the power lines that they needed to replace, but she didn't know how to use magic to fix any of them yet, so she was kind of useless.

Instead she looked around the gym, watching people settle down in little groups and get comfortable for another night outside of their homes. It was almost peaceful without the storm raging outside. With the street lights mostly out, the stars had been visible in the woods. When they turned out the lights, they'd probably be able to see them in the windows. She'd had a place to sleep all of her life, but it hadn't felt right, hadn't felt like home. Somehow, as weird as this was, this did.

Deciding that she could find something useful to do, Lily spent some time folding blankets and moving the mats and cots around so everyone was less crowded in together, and that their temporary places were a little nicer. Belle and Mulan had strung ropes up, so they could hang some of the spare blankets to make walls, and give everyone a little privacy. Maleficent's house had been mostly intact, but the roof had been wrecked, so they were staying here tonight too. Although, Lily knew Mal could have fixed the roof easily, she suspected they would stay here until Regina, Emma, and Henry could go home. Mal’s protectiveness of Regina suggested things to Lily about her own past, and she decided to try and talk to Regina later.   

She had a feeling her life was about to get even crazier.

* * *

 

 

After dinner, Emma and Henry joined the dish-washing detail, and Lily noticed that it was only after a quiet argument with Emma that Regina stayed behind. She sat for awhile by herself in the now walled off section of the cafeteria that was their own, trying to look irritated but mostly just looking tired and that other part of Lily she was still trying to understand ached dully at the sight.  Lily tried to concentrate on Henry’s book of fairy tales again, because he promised it would all start to make sense eventually -  or at least look at the pictures so she’d start to have a better idea of who was who - but Regina was so close that the singed metal smell was strong. She looked so  worn from the day that Lily wanted to go tell her to stop worrying and go to sleep. Even without Lily’s superior senses, anyone could have noticed that the circles under her eyes were dark, her skin too pale and her cheeks too pink, and she yawned as if the violence of it was the only thing keeping her awake.

Finally unable to stand it, Lily picked up the book and her courage and crossed the blanket-strewn area to Regina’s side. Dark eyes came up to meet her instantly and Regina smiled. It was a careful smile, sad and happy all at once and that something inside Lily pushed a little more, urging her forward even though she had no idea what she was doing or why she needed so badly to be close to Regina.  

“Can I uh, can I ask you some stuff, about the book? About why are so many things missing?” she asked, clutching the book in front of her like a shield. Regina’s eyes flickered to it and an unreadable emotion crossed her face before she looked back up at Lily. “It’s just, I’ve been through it twice now and Belle, Mulan, Ruby and Granny, they’re all in here, but my mom’s only a villain in Aurora’s story, and I’m not in it at all. Neither is Henry, and I thought that he'd definitely be in here because he's your son, and this book is a lot about you, but he's not,” Lily trailed off, trying not to show just how nervous she was.

Regina just smiled gently, though, and patted the mat next to her.  She had a blanket around her shoulders again and her hand almost trembled, probably from exhaustion, but she looked at Lily with such intensity and she seemed truly glad to have Lily here, so she stayed. “Let’s say that version is a highly edited one. What did you want to know?“

"Before I bug you with everything, should you be resting?" Lily asked before she sat. She didn't know for certain why she wanted so badly to protect Regina, or why it bothered her that she looked so small, but a suspicion that had been growing in her mind, maybe from the very first moment she saw Regina, was getting stronger. Even if she was wrong, Regina still wasn’t well, and might need to be sleeping instead of answering Lily's questions.

"I'm fine," Regina said, and Lily recognised the steel behind her words. Even if she did need to rest, she probably wasn't going to. Regina had that in common with her mom. And Emma. Lily sat.

She wasn’t even that close,  but as if her sitting down was a signal, that thing, the other inside her surged, pushing up against her ribs, warm beneath her skin. She couldn’t feel her eyes glow, but the light in the room was suddenly a little brighter,  everything a little sharper and she guessed that they were now gold. It was like that other part of her wanted something just beyond reach of Lily’s understanding. It made her ache, curling  in on herself,  holding the book tight to keep her hands from shaking as a faint glow of light outlined her fingers.

“Shit,” she swore, trying to pull away from Regina a little. "Sorry," she muttered, putting the book aside and  clenching her fingers into fists. The glow faded.

"Don't be," Regina said softly. She reached for Lily, then pulled back her hand, almost as if she too was afraid. "Magic is hard to control, even if you've learned it. You've stumbled into yours, that's no reason to be ashamed."

"It's like having another person inside of me, but I can't tell what she wants," Lily said, looking down at her now normal fingers. The room was still too sharp, which meant her eyes were probably still weird, but Regina didn't seem concerned. Instead she licked her lips and looked up at Lily before cautiously reaching out.  She moved like she was afraid of being rejected. Lily had seen that fear in the eyes of a lot of kids, hell she’d seen it in the mirror and some part of her balked at Regina feeling that way for any reason. Not quite sure what she was doing but knowing she had to do it,  Lily held out her hand, meeting Regina halfway and threading her fingers together.

The response was instant.  That warmth, that magic inside her rose up, humming and bright, reaching outward toward Regina like...like this was supposed to happen, like this should have happened all along...like they were part of each other.

Lily stared into eyes that were dark and warm like hers, the words stuck in her throat even though she knew, she knew.

“What’s it doing?” she managed instead, embarrassed to hear her voice crack under the weight of emotion.

It helped that Regina didn’t seem to be doing much better. Her eyes were wide and shining and her hand gripped Lily’s tightly. "Maybe,” her voice broke and she swallowed. “Maybe your magic just wants to help," Regina replied, so gentle and cautious. She shut her eyes for a moment, and her forehead went smooth, as if her pain had faded for a moment.

"Does it want things? Does yours?"

"It's more complicated than wanting," Regina started to explain, but she stopped, winced, then swallowed.

Lily shifted, moving closer. She'd seen that look on Regina's face before, but Emma had always been there to take care of her. The bathroom wasn't that far away, but throwing up was always annoying as fuck. "What can I do?"

"I'm okay," Regina insisted, but her eyes were still screwed shut and she started to shift her weight, preparing to get up.

Maybe it was the dragon part of her that surged out of her fingers. Lily wasn't sure what it did, or what she was trying to do, only that she was healthy, and had magic to spare, and that Regina's was unsettled, like her stomach. She'd never been able to help anyone, not like this, not by instinct or lifeforce or emotion, whatever magic was, but part of her knew Regina, was connected to her, had the same magic…

Regina's eyes opened, and Lily kept staring at her, watching. It was impossible, because Regina was what, thirty-five? Forty, tops and she couldn't have been, but she was Lily's mother. Lily's dragon side knew that, felt that, could connect to Regina somehow.

"You're my mother, aren't you? My other mom, the one my mother loved a long time ago." Lily stumbled over the words finally tumbling  out of her, and  it was like she could breathe again.

The hand holding hers squeezed, hard, but Regina just nodded. Her eyes shone, already red-rimmed as if  she had cried earlier and Lily hated to think she might be making Regina upset but then she was smiling and oh. Wow, she was pretty when she smiled. Regina smiled like Mom, like she might just burst, happy and sad all at once and  Lily didn’t really know what to do with this, two parents who so obviously loved her.

Honestly, the magic was easier to accept.

A part of her wanted to get up and run away, to hide somewhere dark and quiet and just shut everything  out until she could make it all make sense: Emma and this town and Henry (her half brother? brother by adoption?) the Charmings, Ursula and Cruella  and her mothers. Both of them. Who’d wanted her her whole life, while she’d been alone.

"You can feel that?" Regina asked, her voice rough and cracked. "I thought we should wait, give you time..."

Lily laughed weakly, shrugging. "I smelled it. I wasn't sure what it was, but it makes sense, not to me, but to the other me, dragon-me? That’s still so weird.”

"I'm sorry," Regina said, twisting her hands in front of her on the blanket. "I should have--"

"You've had a lot going on." She put her hands on the blanket next to Regina's and she- her mother- reached for Lily's fingers. Regina's skin was too warm, still feverish. "Mom said- I mean, my other mom, said that magical pregnancy is hard, and you've been dealing with it without Emma knowing how to help you, and that's a big thing. Being pregnant and having your magic all fucked up--"

"I still should have told you," Regina interrupted, her voice soft and sad.  "It's just,” Regina looked down, almost uncertain and Lily - even though she’d only known Regina for days - knew this wasn’t something that happened much, Regina Mills uncertain and worried. “We just. You wouldn’t remember me and I know it sounds so crazy, on top of magic and dragons, you have two moms, and Mal- I- we didn’t want to risk overwhelming you. We couldn’t lose you. Not again.” The last was said hard and urgent, all the hesitation gone from Regina’s body 

Lily let the idea float in the forefront of her thoughts. Regina was her mother. She'd known that too hadn't she? She trusted her so quickly when she usually trusted no one. "Having two moms, that's the part where I run screaming?"

Regina gave her a wry smile.  "You remember Mal, you knew her. I never, we never, had that chance." The sorrow on her face made a knot in Lily's stomach.

"Something happened with you and mom?" Lily asked, then answered her own question, looking down at the book. "It was the curse, wasn't it?"

Regina looked down at the book too, eyes darkening and mouth pulling down into a hard line. She nodded, not lifting her eyes. "She thought it was too dark, even for someone like us, that casting it would leave a hole inside me. She tried to stop me, even fought me. I didn't listen."

Lily had read the book's version, seen the pictures, but it just didn’t add up in her mind. Not now anyway. The woman in front of her wasn't cold hearted or hellbent on revenge. Regina was kind and generous and so obviously loved her family in a way that would have made Lily achingly jealous once upon a time when she was alone. Now it just took her breath away, made her hunger to be part of it even as she somehow knew that she already was. No matter what the pictures in a book said, she could never see Regina as evil. Besides, Lily had just had massive, irrefutable proof her instincts had been right her whole life.

"The woman in the book, this evil queen, she's not you," she said quietly.

"She's who I was," Regina replied.

Lily shook her head. “No, she’s not. Besides,” Lily smiled bitterly, thinking of her own past, thinking of Emma. “We’ve all done things, hurt people.  

"Not like that," Regina said, but seemed to appreciate the sentiment.  A comfortable silence settled between them and Regina eased back against the wall. She didn’t look like she needed to throw up after all, at least, not at the moment and while the sharp, burnt metal smell was still present, it was softer, as if Lily's magic had helped a little.

It didn’t last long though. And a moment later Regina grimaced, pulling her hand away from Lily's to hold her stomach. Lily tried to call up her magic, to make it be useful, but she didn't know what she was doing. "Mom- other mom- said it'll get better," Lily promised when her magic didn't seem to want to cooperate.

Regina kept her eyes on Lily, her expression softening as if she was enamoured with just the sight of her. "She's been known to omit certain truths when it suits her."

Maleficent been sick for much of her pregnancy, Lily knew. She hadn't been specific, but Lily had an idea that it had been pretty awful. Regina knew that too, and maybe, just like Maleficent, she'd bear it, because she was a mother and that was what they did for their children.

"So you and her?" Lily wondered aloud, trying to distract Regina from her nausea.

"We were different, then, both of us,” and the slight smile, just a little bit wicked when she said ‘different’ suddenly Lily remembered the book, corsets and cleavage and eyeliner. Huh. So her moms knew how to party. She was going to have to not think too hard about that.  “She’s still very important to me, but - “ Regina trailed off and looked across the gym and Lily knew without turning that her eyes had found Emma.

"I know," Lily assured her, reaching for her hand again and letting Regina take her fingers. “It’s weird but...kind of seems right? You and Mom and Emma. Mom said she thinks Emma's great for you, that you’re really happy now.” 

They were both silent for a moment and then Lily spoke hesitantly. “She is too, you know.” At the confusion on Regina’s face she continued. “Emma. She’s really happy. I’ve never seen her like this before. I mean I know she’s worried but...she wasn’t happy when we were younger.”

Something dark and achingly sad flickered across Regina’s face for a moment  but it was gone as soon as she turned her attention back to Lily. “And you’re...are you okay with this?” Regina asked, her voice so soft and careful. Lily heard the fear there and shrugged, smiling and squeezing Regina’s fingers.

“Its weird. And it’s a lot to take in but...yes? I’ve never...my whole life I never fit anywhere. I always felt like my skin belonged to someone else this. This feels like home.” She grinned, softening her words when she saw the pain in Regina’s eyes at the mention of her past.  “Really, really weird home where I’m a dragon and my mom is dating my best friend but yeah. I really think I’m okay.”

Regina let go of her hands and reached for Lily's hair, toying with a curl of it. "Welcome to Storybrooke," she whispered, and Lily returned her smile without any kind of hesitation. "My hair's more work than Mal's."

Lily shrugged. "I don't look good blonde. so it's probably a good thing that I got yours."

Regina's fingers stroked her cheek, and there was something so maternal in her smile, just like the way she looked at Henry. "You're so beautiful."

"You have to say that," Lily joked, but her throat tightened. She'd seen how much Regina loved her son, and having that focused on her was more than she knew how to deal with. "But thanks."  


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma takes Regina home and they get a chance to talk about what her pregnancy means to them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is shameless emotional stuff, and necessary, so more plot later. Huge thanks to Race for all the work she put into editing this, it's special to be able to post something I'm so proud of.

The next time they all returned to the Mayor’s mansion was a shock for a completely different reason, and this time, when Regina’s feet failed to carry her forward, it was out of awe, not horror. 

Once again the mansion stood as pristine and whole as the first day of the Curse. Mal and Emma hadn't taken the time to fix the garden, or the grass, and her perfect home was a spot of order amongst chaos, but it was back, and hers again, painstakingly repaired which Regina _knew_ would have required both of them working extra,  ignoring Regina's carefully written repair schedule. Her throat grew thick with emotion and something trembled in her chest as she unlocked the front door and let them all in to the familiar cool interior, the white walls and cream and black accents a world of clean and order after the disaster of the rest of the town and the crowding of the gym.  She could breathe here.

Mal and Lily would be in the guest rooms for a few days as Mal hadn’t taken the time to repair her own roof yet, and Regina appreciated that they'd be nearby in case they were required. None of them knew what would be the next thing to terrorise their town, but this summoner wouldn't stop, so they needed all the help they could get. 

She laid this out, calm and logical, forcing her voice to stay even but it was a struggle, especially when she walked into the kitchen, saw the gleaming surfaces where she’d cooked a thousand meals, where Henry had grown up and she’d kissed Emma. Even the drawings on the fridge - an old report card of Henry’s, perfect A’s of course - had been restored. That was when her eyes started to sting and it was suddenly hard to breathe around the emotion welling in her chest. She stopped, swallowing it down until Henry, Henry who was far too perceptive because he was her son and Emma’s, stepped close and hugged her. Henry held her, one arm around her shoulders, while she held back tears in the kitchen because they could finally eat at home.

 The electricity still wasn't working, but the water and the stove were functional. They'd be able to eat breakfast in the morning, and making light was the most basic of spells. The house was liveable.

"It's okay, Mom," he promised, and she wanted to tell him this was happiness, because she was home, with people who cared enough to put that home first. But then he kept talking and she had to laugh, even if it came out a bit choked.  "They didn't deviate from your schedule," Henry said, grinning knowingly. 

Pulling him close she kissed his temple, a pang at how _tall_ he was pushing at her ribs. “I promise not to scold them too harshly.” 

Mal scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but her eyes were gentle where they watched Regina and her son.  "We did it off the clock," she insisted, folding her arms over her chest and not looking the least bit sorry. "Don't worry yourself, dear." Though she'd protest otherwise, Mal had been pushing herself further than even her endurance could handle. Her face was paler than usual, and the deep circles under her eyes were a reflection of those under Emma's. No one had slept particularly well in the gymnasium and it was that knowledge that made Regina keep whatever other argument she has behind her teeth. With the four of them almost wholly responsible for repairing and protecting the town from magic, it would be better for all of them to be here. 

“Thank you, Mal, Emma,” she said softly. Mal’s nod was queenly and superior and Regina rolled her eyes just a little. Honestly the woman hadn’t changed at all. 

"It's a nice house," Lily said, standing next to Mal as she looked around. "See why you missed it." She sounded a little wistful and Regina wanted to reach out and pull her into a hug too, but a glance at Mal told her to wait. They would be okay. They had time.  

Henry, with all the wisdom Mal had noted, gave Regina a final squeeze and stepped away, offering to show Lily around and with a quick glance at Regina, who could only nod, Lily accepted, a lopsided smile on her face. 

As soon as they were gone ,Emma moved immediately to wrap her arms around Regina’s waist, pressing her body against Regina’s back and resting her chin on Regina’s shoulder. Once it would have galled, made her tense up out of old, defensive habit but now she relaxed into the embrace, Emma’s magic thrumming under her skin and warming her. One of her hands carefully found its way to rest low on Regina’s stomach now, as if protecting the baby and Regina wondered if Emma even knew what she was doing.  Even with Emma relieving her symptoms a little though, her fever was still with her, sapping her strength, which probably had added to Emma and Mal's determination to get her back home. It would be the greatest gift to have her own bed tonight, and Emma's arms around her.  

 Mal smirked at them both, something proud and fond on her face. Regina couldn’t even muster a glare at the arrogance of the woman. She was too touched by how hard Mal had worked to return her - to bring them all - home.

"We need to tell him," Regina sighed, staring after their son while her chest ached. "He should know."

" _You_ need to rest," Mal countered,  the fond look replaced by a scowl and her tone brooking no argument. "Your news will wait until morning." 

Regina opened her mouth to argue, only to be silenced by a soft  press of lips to her neck. “She’s right Regina. We’re not keeping secrets from him. It’s okay. Let Henry show Lily around and we can sit down.”

Narrowing her eyes, Regina turned in Emma’s arms. She recognised the tactic and she was fully prepared to tell Emma she was _fine..._ except that she had not counted on the effectiveness of Emma’s pout. She looked so much like Henry in that moment, something in the line of her mouth and the way her eyes widened just enough. Regina had been helpless in the face of that pout for almost fourteen years she apparently didn’t have any more resistance just because it came from her son’s mother and not Henry himself.  “That’s cheating,” she muttered even as she let herself be led into the living room, stopping only by the door to discard her boots (the lowest heeled ones she had, because Emma had had shown up with them at the gym and she should have guessed then that Emma was up to something).  

Still it was a relief to curl up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. When Emma came to sit beside her with a blanket, she didn’t pull away, noticing for the first time a chill in the house. 

Emma gently drew the blanket over her shoulders then slipped in next to her, wrapping her arms around Regina and gently pulling her close in a way that Regina absolutely refused to call snuggling. Had she been so cold all day or was it just now that she had time to notice? Regina hadn't really thought much about how she felt, because there had been so much that needed to be done and it was easier to ignore her body than give in. 

Mal, incongruous in her tailored suit with bare feet, went to the liquor cabinet, dug around until she found a bottle in the far back that she liked, then poured herself a drink. Glass in hand, she settled on the other sofa and the way she settled, even adopting her usual insolent sprawl, told Regina the dragon was more tired than she let on. 

“I’m not the only one who needs to rest,” she shot back with a pointed look at Mal.  The blonde woman raised her drink in mocking salute but her expression was open and weary. 

“We all do,” was all she said, voice low and heavy and all three women knew Mal wasn’t just talking about going to bed early tonight. 

The silence that descended after Mal’s words was weighted and Emma’s hold tightened briefly. Regina wanted to tell her it would be fine, but four years of history in this town kept the words behind her teeth. 

"I don't know whom your little town has run afoul of, but they're tenacious," Mal said, and the irritation in her tone was comforting. 

Emma muttered her agreement, and she and Mal started trying to theorise who would have the power to summon up the creatures they'd been contending with.  For once, Regina listened to them half-heartedly, giving little attention to what they said and instead just letting their voices wash over her. Even exhausted, Emma's stubborn optimism and Mal's dry wit were familiar, comforting as an old, worn blanket.  They bickered lazily and it wasn’t long before conversation shifted from the  now, to the past. Mal slipped easily into old stories about the other villains she'd known. Some of them Regina knew well, Mal had loved to talk long into the night while the candles burned low back when they’d first known each other.  The dragon had centuries of stories collected in her memory, and few of them were ever written down, let alone in books that Emma would ever read.  Regina closed her eyes, letting her memory drift back before this realm, before a crushed heart and a curse. For a few dreamy moments, she could have been with Emma and Maleficent in another place that had been safe, almost like home. 

* * *

 

 

She must have fallen asleep, because she wasn't wrapped in Emma's arms in Maleficent's castle, safe from her mother and Rumplestiltskin, that had never happened. Emma hadn't been there, nor had Henry, but he was in front of her now, looking down at her, far too grown up, his expression soft. Lily was standing next to her, still looking a little awkward, but her eyes - the exact shade of Regina’s own - were crinkled at the corners in a soft smile.  

Emma still held her, but it was Mal who had woken her, soft touch at Regina’s chin bringing her back to the present. 

"Comfortable, dear?" Mal’s words were teasing but her tone was as tender as her touch. 

They all looked at her, their expressions soft, gentle...caring. Embarrassed, she started to sit up, insisting that she was fine, just tired because she hadn't slept, because she'd used so much magic. It was instinct born from brutal practice and even in front of those she loved, she couldn’t put it wholly aside, she needed to be strong. Especially for Henry. 

Emma's cool fingers ran through her hair and stopped her movement. "It's all right. I was half-asleep too."

The look on Mal's face would have told Regina that Emma was lying even if she didn’t already know, but Mal held her peace, allowing the fiction...for her, Regina knew. They were doing this for her. 

There were moments - more and more often as the days went by - where Regina could accept this, could believe that she had, at long last, the family she’d always dreamed of as a little girl. Well, maybe not _how_ she’d dreamed it, patchwork and complicated and stitched together by decades of often painful history but somehow more beautiful for it - but the strength, the love.  Regina had been surrounded all her life; by a mother’s magic, by an imp’s power, by guards and greedy nobles and angry mobs. The faces that had stared back at her had always, always wanted something from her; her future, her magic, her body, her wealth, her power. Until Storybrooke when those faces had been blank and empty, hungering for things they couldn’t name but at least weren’t _her._ It struck her then that she’s surrounded once more, but every set of eyes fixed on her belongs to someone who doesn’t want anything _from_ her, they want instead only to take care of her, to love her.  Each face was family. _Her_ family. 

The room tilted on its axis and she forgot for a moment, a long moment where her heartbeat pounded loud in her ears, how to breathe. Or maybe that space beneath and between her ribs was just filled too full of something else to make room for her lungs. 

“Regina?” Emma’s voice, soft and close and starting to worry. Regina blinked, breathed and hoped her smile didn’t look too much like she was breaking. She must have done a good enough job because Emma just rubbed between her shoulderblades and told her to go up to bed. “I’ll make sure the guest rooms are ready. I know where all the bedding is. Fully domesticated and everything.” Her eyes sparked with just a bit of humor and Regina felt the pressure inside her ribs ease, her smile getting a little easier. 

“Try ‘barely’ domesticated,” Henry muttered dryly, and Regina had to bite back laughter at Emma’s pout.

The banter steadied her, put strength back in her knees so she could stand and open her arms for Henry to hug her which he did, easily and tightly. “ Don’t worry, I promise I'll brush my teeth, and floss." HIs smile was cheeky but she could see the worry at the corners of his eyes and she had to clench her teeth not to tell him not to worry, that everything would be fine because she wasn’t sick. She remembered Mal’s words, though, and stayed silent, kissing Henry’s forehead and brushing the hair out of his eyes. He allowed it, which meant he truly was worried and another pang of guilt struck her. _Tomorrow_ , she reminded herself. 

Emma nudged her gently towards the stairs. "Go on, I'll be right up."

Lily nodded to her, still too shy for more than a soft smile but Mal stepped close, hand coming up to cup Regina’s cheek. She leaned in, brushing her lips across Regina’s forehead, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of her lips. "Thank you, for sharing your home." Maleficent was rarely grateful, and even more rarely expressed that gratitude, but there was no humor or mocking in her voice and Regina swallowed around a suddenly tight through, nodding.   

As if aware of the heaviness of the moment, Mal stepped back, turning pointedly to Emma and arching her eyebrow. “Well?” she demanded. Regina had to bite her lip at Emma’s expression. Leaving the three to get the guest bedrooms sorted, she turned to head upstairs. Something of her emotions must have been too clear on her face, though, as Emma’s fingertips brushed the back of her hand.   

"I'll just make sure they have enough pillows," Emma promised. "It'll be quick."

"Goodnight, Mom," Henry added.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”  

He left, the heavy tread of his ever-growing feet thudding up the stairs, vanishing when he reached the top floor. Mal and Lily followed Emma and suddenly Regina was alone, at once grateful and unsteady and she  held to the polished wood of the banister as she climbed the stairs, heart pounding a little too hard and breath short even from that minimal effort. 

Reaching the door to the master bedroom, Regina rested against the frame for a moment,  her legs suddenly unable to take her full weight.  One of Emma's socks still lay on the floor of their bedroom. It must have been there from before they left, before they drove all that way to find Lily, a departure that seemed like a lifetime ago now. It still waited, crumpled and waiting for Emma (more likely Regina) to pick it up and place it in the hamper where it belonged. Regina stared at that simple blue sock, not because it was out of place, but because it was the simplest reminder of how her life had changed. This wasn’t just a place Emma left her stuff sometimes, it was her home now.

Regina’s hand rose to rest below her navel.

 _Their_ home. 

Pushing off the door frame, Regina forced her knees steady and moved across the room to the bed, ignoring the sock - for now. Instead of going to her usual side, she moved to where Emma slept, sitting with no grace whatsoever, her legs crumpling like wet leaves under her, dropping her on top  of the covers where she curled onto her side, wrapped in on her herself, head on Emma’s pillow. It still had her scent, faint, but recognisable, and Regina pressed her cheek deep into the soft fabric and focused on just breathing. 

She was nearing the end of her limits, physically and emotionally exhausted.  She still reeled slightly; the last few days, the last hours,  untethered in a way she couldn’t remember experiencing before.  Regina was no stranger to exhaustion, to feeling hollowed out and empty, to feeling broken. 

This was different.  

There was no heat of rage or cold grip of despair to drive her forward relentlessly this time. She was shaken, as fragile as the battered windows of her house that Mal and Emma had repaired, and yet it wasn’t fear or loss - that all too familiar darkness - that filled her now, it was... _happiness._

She’d forgotten what that felt like. 

It had been so long since she’d felt this way; not since those first years with Henry had she known this wild light inside her. 

It was terrifying. 

If she carried this baby, their baby, to term, she'd watch her grow up, just as she had Henry, but this time she'd have Emma beside her, taking turns when the baby couldn't sleep, with diapers and baths and all the things she’d experienced - that she’d treasured - with Henry, alone.  Henry who was even now sleeping - well, more than likely reading with a flashlight - in his room, _home,_ because he wanted to be here again. Mal and Lily would be just down the hall, a presence that once would have felt like an invasion in her private sanctuary but now just made her think of familiar magic and lips against her forehead and _Lily,_ her other child, finding a home with them. 

Somehow, after decades and curses and realms and so much pain, she managed to find everything she’d ever wanted; a family, a home, a son who _knew_ her and loved her, a daughter who was trying to do both, she had Mal, and she had Emma.  Emma whom she’d never expected  but now couldn’t imagine life without. Emma who gave so much of herself and was constantly afraid it wasn’t enough, who had given her the last gift Regina hadn’t even dared to hope for.  It was nothing like she had ever dreamed,  not even close. Her dreams had always been of Daniel, of a simple life in a simple place, green hills and horses and freedom. By the time her dreams were filled with fire and Snow White’s screams, there was no place left in her heart for the future, let alone a family, the dream that had been Daniel fading and dimming until he was little more than a photograph rescued from a fire, charred and cracked and eventually destroyed. 

Tears, hot and silent, slipped from her eyes and Regina clutched the pillow tighter as her breath stuttered and broke, the last weeks finally  cresting over her like a wave, pulling her down until in the quiet of her bedroom, she surrendered. She had _everything_ and it was real and solid and vivid, she could walk out of this room and look in on Henry, reach out and take Emma’s hand, she could feel the heat of her own skin that was proof of a new life within her and it was all  _so much._

Regina thought of earlier that night, waking surrounded - perhaps for the first time in her entire life - by people who loved her, she thought of Emma’s touch and Henry’s growing shoulders and Lily’s careful, careful smile and Mal’s concern, and felt them slip through her hands like the dust of a crushed heart, she thought of a future where a little girl with her eyes and Emma’s laugh looked at the world without fear. 

This happiness, this child, this was magic, ancient and powerful and beyond Regina’s understanding. 

And all magic came with a price. 

That was the truest lesson of Regina’s entire life; whenever she found some tiny sliver of happiness, some  measure of peace, it was taken from from her. Sometimes brutally, sometimes carelessly, but the result was the same. Her sister had once said that she had the most resilient heart, but everyone has a breaking point and Regina’s had always been those she loved. It was why she had worked so hard for so long to close herself off, guard what she thought was a heart withered and blackened by magic and rage and terrible deeds.  Henry showed her she was still capable of love, opening a door she’d thought long barred. And then Emma Swan came along and blew it off its hinges, leaving her raw and unguarded and now carrying a child created by magic so powerful that Regina couldn’t even begin to fathom the cost.  She’d paid for Henry with eighteen years of loneliness, of living the same day, each as empty as the last. And he was worth it, worth every second, but what would be demanded of her this time? What price did the creation of life have? Regina had no more hatred, no more grief, no more nothingness to offer up in payment for something so wonderful. 

Fear, cold and hard, rose in her stomach, twisting and demanding. All that she had might not be enough, she might lose this baby anyway, the impossibility of her being able to have a child overwhelmed the flickering spark of ‘maybe.’  

That was all it took for the doubts to set in, whispering, echoes of Rumple, of Cora. She couldn't be pregnant. There were so many reasons why this would never work. If her magic supported the child, if she was still too dark, too tainted, the child might suffer.  

A small voice, her own, Henry’s, Emma’s, ‘ _What are you doing?’ ‘Changing,’_ reminded her that she had light magic too. That she was a _good mother,_ her love for Henry was true love, and if she'd been able to draw on that, maybe she could do this, maybe she was strong enough to carry this baby. 

But that tiny voice bent under the weight of memory, of magic choking her, of being held high off the ground, of blood in her mouth and her stomach sour and hard from fear.  What if she was too damaged, if Cora’s lessons had been carved too deep?

What if she became her mother?

She didn't hear the door, or realise that Emma had even circled the bed until she felt the mattress dip and Emma, her precious Emma, whispered soothingly that it was all right, everything was fine. Regina held on to Emma’s voice, let it pull her out of the past until the phantom pain of magic restraints faded and she could breathe again.  No longer denied, her senses flooded her mind with information; she was at home, in her own bed, safe if not entirely comfortable. She wore the same clothes from the day, Emma’s pillow was soft beneath her cheek, and Emma herself eased closer. 

A gentle touch at her shoulder, warm and comforting but the memories were still too close, old instincts kicking in before she could control them and Regina flinched, shame a hot flush on her cheeks. She _knew,_ knew it was foolish, that crying wasn’t weakness, that this was Emma, Emma who was safe and wouldn’t hurt her. But in that moment it didn’t matter, Regina had learned too well that weakness meant punishment.  Pain was how she'd been taught to be strong, and sometimes - like now - she had to struggle to remind herself that Cora was _wrong._ Henry and Emma had shown her that, proved again and again that love wasn't a weakness. Love was strength, and it held her family together

Their daughter would _not_ grow up thinking that love made her vulnerable. She'd never be punished for crying, or have her mother's hand lift her chin in a vice-like grip to explain how again she'd failed. This child would be protected, shielded and allowed her experiences, like Henry had been. At least, until her lies unravelled their life together and he'd been lost, but she didn't let herself think about that. 

"Hey," Emma whispered, interrupting her thoughts. "It's okay. You're okay." 

Emma's hand ran down her side, and then Emma's knees slipped in behind Regina's own, and Emma took her, wrapping her in her arms, and then her fingertips brushed Regina’s neck, moving aside her hair so she could kiss the bared skin beneath. The press of her lips sent a soft flare of magic flowing down Regina’s spine, settling low in her belly. It helped, grounded her, let her focus on the solid strength of Emma’s arms and the way their bodies fit together and the _warmth_ that she soaked in like it was water and she was parched. 

Slowly, her shoulders uncurled, her heart calming.  Emma smoothed her hair and curled closer, warm and reassuring. "What's wrong?"

A part of Regina wanted to assure, to say she was fine, just tired, that it would pass, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out, her throat was still too tight and she found the words trapped. And in truth, she had no idea what to say. There was so much tangled up inside her, how could she offer Emma the truth when she wasn’t even sure herself. 

Instead of answering, Regina reached up, catching Emma’s fingers and pulling them to her chest. Emma took that as a signal to press their bodies even tighter and Regina felt a little more of the tension in her shoulders fall away. Emma’s magic, even inactive, surrounded her, like lying in the sun on a midsummer’s day. 

Thoughts of Cora, memories of darkness and shame remained but they were distant, as if Emma really was her shield.  She was silent, and Emma didn’t push, didn’t ask again, just held her.  And slowly, the knot lodged beneath Regina’s ribs untangled. 

“What if I can't?" she asked at last. 

Lips against her shoulder. "Can't do what?" Not demanding, not afraid, just waiting to understand. 

Regina wondered if Emma could, when she herself was still trying to make sense of it.  She’d thought herself incapable - years of Leopold’s seed withering inside her without even the broken promise of a child. She’d been so grateful then, the thought of some part of him growing inside her enough to make her scrub at her skin until it nearly bled, or stand at the edge of her balcony...again. A child would have been nothing more than another shackle, and she’d been grateful that fate had kept her free, to learn magic and grow her power. 

But she’d still been a young woman in a powerful King’s court, she’d still been the replacement for a Queen beloved by an entire nation. Regina had heard the whispers of the court, seen the disappointment on Snow White's hated little face when year after year she had no little sister or brother, and no matter how hard Regina tried to feel otherwise, it had become simply one more way she’d failed. For all her beauty, the young queen was barren; a empty shell, not a real woman, not full of life like Snow White, like her mother, like the first queen--

She’d killed many of the nobles who’d whispered those things, delighted in their eternal silence. It hadn’t made the whispers or the shame die. 

Emma’s hold tightened, her magic flaring softly. 

“Whatever it is, I can feel it hurts, Regina.”

It did. Even after all this time, even now, with _proof_ they were wrong, it hurt. She wondered if there would ever be a time it didn’t. Soft lips on her shoulder and Regina had her answer. Not today but someday. Suddenly needing to see Emma’s eyes she shifted, rolling over and moving willingly into Emma’s embrace again. It was like being enveloped in a blanket fresh out of the dryer, the way Emma’s magic slipped across her skin, warm and soft. 

“I still can’t believe...It should have been you.” 

That sweet, pink mouth pulled down into a frown and Emma reached up, stroking her cheek, obviously not following Regina's thoughts. "Why do you think it had to be me?"

Regina stared at her, wondering how she'd explain it. "Because I can't be pregnant-"

Emma shook her head, eyes sparkling as she smiled, leaning in close. "Regina, you _are."_

The gentle teasing tugged the corner of Regina’s mouth up briefly before it fell again. "Yes, but-" she paused, struggling to explain. 

Emma waited, looking into her eyes with far too much affection. "What?"

"I shouldn't be."

"I don't understand.  Why not?" When Regina didn’t answer, Emma shifted, pulling Regina closer against her. Regina went gladly, her head tucked under Emma’s chin, slim strong arms around her shoulders. It was easier this way, where she could feel Emma’s heartbeat, the rise and fall of her breathing. 

"Mal was able to get pregnant," she said eventually, still searching for words. "Back in the Enchanted Forest, and I wasn't."

Emma chuckled, the sound low and rich under Regina’s ear and it almost made her smile too. "So once a dad always a dad?" Emma teased, her hand stroking up and down Regina’s spine. It was ridiculous and juvenile and utterly Emma to try and make her laugh in that moment, and Regina tried, she did but -  

"No, no, I suppose not but--" she stopped again, looking up Emma, at a loss for how to give voice to the tangle of fear and hope, how to separate past from present and even begin to  think about the future. 

And then Emma, stupid, noble, wonderful Emma opened her mouth and did it for her. 

Green eyes soft and wide and serious, Emma slowly reached down between them, her hand resting just below Regina’s navel, her touch steady,  steady,  and her fearlessness steadied the tripping beat of Regina’s heart.  "I don't know how this works,” Emma said softly. “You know I’m not as good at magic as you. I don’t know if there are any rules or how this is supposed to go, if it’s because I had an implant,  or it would have always been you, but there's nothing wrong with you. Whatever the ‘why’ is, it  doesn’t matter. You can do this. _We_ can do this. You’re not alone this time, Regina. I’m here. Henry’s here -” 

But Regina shook her head, eyes stinging. “He shouldn’t have to look after me."

"Why not?" Emma asked, that sweet pink mouth frowning and her eyes serious. "He loves you. He'd do anything for you."

"Children shouldn't have to- I mean, Henry shouldn't--"

Emma kissed her forehead, then pulled Regina into her chest, holding her close. " _We're_ going to look after you, because we love you. Me and Henry, and the dragons. Granny will probably get involved, because she likes you a lot more than either of you will admit and hell, my mother will probably want - " There, finally, Emma’s voice failed and now it was Regina’s turn to press gentle lips to warm skin, to tighten her arms around Emma’s waist.  That was a wound that still hadn’t closed, but it would.  Eventually, she’d see to that. Not for Snow, but for Emma,  who was hurt and angry and hellbent on being _good_ but not _right_ and who needed her family, even if that meant Regina had to deal with a woman she wasn’t entirely sure she could ever forgive completely.  But that could wait. Emma wasn’t ready now and Regina wouldn’t - couldn’t - push her. 

There would be time. 

Regina looked at Emma and suddenly all she could think about was the sock on the floor.  Despite having somewhat different standards of “clean” than Regina, Emma wasn’t actually messy, and she was never careless with her things. If the sock was still on the floor it was only because Emma hadn’t yet come back to pick it up. 

It was like pulling back a curtain to finally see the orchestra playing the music you’ve been hearing for a while. Emma’s socks, her jacket on the chair, Henry down the hall - she would keep coming back. They had _time._

The last of Regina’s turmoil washed away, not gone forever, but the tide receded, leaving behind a beach washed clean and empty, and tired. 

"Do you want this baby?" Emma asked softly. 

Cora and magic, Leopold and a prison, Maleficent and a missed chance at family; blood and loneliness and magic and years of nothing, nothing, nothing, then _Henry._ Henry and Emma, Emma, magic and anger and passion and love and hope. Chances squandered and love stolen and given and given again, tiny fingers and first steps and a small quick heartbeat growing inside her. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.  Maybe she didn’t deserve this, maybe Emma was right and it wasn’t about deserving. Regina closed her eyes, sighed. 

 _"Yes._ "

And Emma, because she was Emma, and could make everything simple complicated, and everything complicated simple, just smiled, green eyes sparkling and that wide, wide smile. "Okay.  Then you’re going to have a baby,  and we’re going to look out for you - me, and Henry...and probably your dragons because I don’t think anyone could keep Mal from worrying about you."

Regina made a soft noise of amusement but her limbs were growing heavy again, the aftermath of emotion leaving her hollowed out but lighter, as if she’d finally managed to set down a burden that had bowed her under its weight for so long her spine had forgotten what it was to straighten. 

“Mal won’t like being called ‘mine’” she murmured against Emma’s neck.  She knew what Emma said was true though, and having them as backup did make her feel safer. Mal had done this before, alone, and she'd had Lily. No matter what they had been through, Mal had always protected her, when she could.

Emma rubbed slow circles between Regina’s shoulders. The effect was hypnotic. "It's going to be okay, you're going to feel better, the baby's going to be fine. We'll even get the lights back on." 

It took her a moment to realize  what Emma said, but when the words registered Regina sniffed. "Now that's too optimistic," she answered, almost surprised by how easy it was to smile. She shouldn't have been. That was what Emma did. "There are miles of powerlines we need to replace."

"Tomorrow," Emma said, sighing, and there was weariness in her voice too, faint, and well hidden, but Regina _knew_ Emma, and so she said nothing. "We can do that tomorrow. Now, you need to brush your teeth and get to bed."

Regina shook her head, resting her forehead against Emma's. "I'm already in bed."  She didn’t whine. She _didn’t._ But she could feel Emma’s smile in the lips that brushed her cheek that said otherwise. 

"I think I can handle magic pyjamas, but magic teeth brushing is probably beyond me."

Regina lifted her head only to immediately fall back against the pillows, her whole body too heavy to lift, as if her bones were suddenly iron. "I'll do it in the morning," she muttered, defeated by how incredibly tired she was. Emma waved her hand, and her clothes were pyjamas - or Emma’s version of pajamas; one of Emma’s worn, old t-shirts and soft faded sweatpants. It was a long way from Regina’s usual silk but it felt...good. Warm. Comfortable. They smelled like Emma’s fabric softener. With contented sigh, she shifted (it wasn’t snuggling) deeper into the pillows.  Freed from her bra, her breasts reminded her that they were sore and heavy and she shifted, trying to get comfortable. 

Pale eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. Emma’d never seen Regina go to bed without flossing.  Her expression turned quickly gentle though. "I can't imagine how tired you must be. I'm exhausted, and I'm not even pregnant."

Regina just ‘hmmd in agreement and then watched, too tired to move, as Emma brushed her teeth, then changed her own clothes with a wave of her hands and then started easing the blankets out from under her so they could slip in bed together.  Emma moved her gently, helping her roll to her side of the bed before she climbed in next to her and cuddled up again. A flick of her hand doused the little light spell that had illuminated their bedroom in the absence of electricity and though there was no heating, with Emma pressed up close, it was warm, even comfortable. 

"It'll get better," Emma promised, running her thumb across Regina's cheek. "Mal said the spell will take a lot of the weight off."

She nodded, but was so tired that it was barely a bob of her head. Emma kissed her nose, then her cheek, as if saying goodnight. "I don't mind," she whispered, and she wasn't even sure Emma had heard, or if Regina had even spoken. 

Then Emma asked, "You don't mind being sick?"

This was their baby, and she'd have whatever she needed, everything Regina had to give. "Not if-" she had to repeat herself when she yawned, "not if the baby has what she needs." 

Emma kissed her, then kissed her again, then pressed her lips against her forehead. "We'll share this, it'll get easier, I promise, I _will_ help you with this,” she promised. Her words were gentle, but Regina could hear the echoes of a girl, sitting all alone in jail, grappling with the knowledge she was about to become a mother, and the woman she’d become, who fought every day to make sure that the people around her were  protected. 

The last thought Regina had before sleep took her was that she loved Emma so very much. 

* * *

 

 

The smell of pancakes that woke Emma the next morning. Regina was still asleep in her arms, her face smooth and unlined in sleep. She looked better this morning than she had in a while and Emma contemplated just staying in bed. The almost obscenely loud grumbling of her stomach forced her hand though. Shutting off the alarm Emma carefully slipped out of bed, tucking the covers back around Regina who was so deeply asleep she didn’t stir.  

Grabbing Regina’s robe from the closet, Emma padded down the stairs to the kitchen to discover Henry and Mal were the ones making pancakes. Or more accurately Henry was making pancakes while Mal sort of assisted and Lily watched with something like fascination.  Standing in the doorway, Emma took a moment to watch the trio. Henry moved around the kitchen with ease, no sign of teenage  clumsiness. He reminded her a little of Regina, really, lording it over the kitchen like it was his kingdom.  He was probably the best case ever for the triumph of nurture over nature and that bright swell of emotion that always rose up when she  thought about how Regina had done what  she never could filled her  now, moving her feet forward till she could wrap Henry in a one-armed hug and mess with his hair. He protested  but she got a soft smile that told her their kid knew his mom too well before turning back to the pancakes.  Emma left him to it and went to join Lily and Mal where they now sat at the kitchen island. 

Even with her hair down in a braid, Maleficent sat at the counter with the kind of regal posture that reminded Emma of Regina.  She nodded her good morning to Emma and kept drinking her coffee while she traced something onto a map of the town.

Lily lifted the french press towards a mug she'd had waiting.  Without the power, they must have had to improvise, but with magic it would have been easy enough. At least in Regina's house, they'd have good coffee. "Coffee?"

"God, yes," Emma said, taking a stool next to Mal. 

Henry turned the pancake over, studying the golden-brown side before he smiled at her. "Operation short stack is a success so far," he said, mock saluting with his spatula. "Is Mom okay?"

"Yeah, just needs some more sleep," Emma promised, smiling as brightly as she could. She had to cover a yawn while Lily set coffee in front of her. "I guess we all do."

"Perhaps in time, we'll get it, though Regina's far too precise schedule of repairs takes us through into next week." Mal reminded them with a resigned sigh. "I once used magic to terrorise whole kingdoms, now I’ll apparently need three days to repair the lights of your quaint little town. Candles would be sufficient." 

Lily and Emma shared a look and Emma hid  her  smile behind her coffee up. Sipping her own mug, Lily asked Mal, "Did you use candles in your castle?"

"Yes, and they provide a much more pleasing light than these supposedly efficient bluish things," Mal said, waving her hand at the light bulb on the ceiling that was out. 

Removing a pancake from the griddle (because of course, Regina had a dedicated pancake griddle), Henry placed it on a plate and passed it to Emma. They could have been using the table, but Henry was still cooking so they had all the stools pulled up to the island in the kitchen. It was the kind of ridiculous family scene that she and Lily used to dream about when they ate stolen food and tried to stay out of the rain and when Emma glanced up at Lily she could see the direction of her thoughts was similar. 

Something sour twisted in Emma’s stomach as she remembered those days, her anger at Lily when she found out the girl had a _family,_ people who wanted her, the thing Emma  would have killed for. Now though, sitting in Regina’s kitchen, with the family she’d finally found, watching Lily with Mal it was so much easier to understand the young girl Emma had known.  Lily’s adoptive parents had been good people, had wanted her her, they must have cooked for her, looked after her, but the memory of her birth mother stamped deep down into her very bones must have made it so hard to let go and be happy.  Sympathy pushed at Emma’s ribs. Lily  must have felt so crazy there, with parents who loved her, but that all of her instincts insisted weren't right,  weren’t “hers”.  And then she'd lost them. 

She and Lily had a lot of things to talk about at some point. 

Dark eyes - god, just like Regina’s, the same shape and everything how had Emma ever made the connection? - met hers over plates of pancakes fresh off the griddle and the corner of Lily’s mouth quirked upward. It was a rueful, almost sad smile and Emma felt herself returning  it. Their pasts were littered with so much hurt, and not a little between them but - 

Lily looked away first, glancing at where Mal sat, watching her with that tender intensity. The kitchen was bright with magic and warmth and the smell of breakfast and Lily was home now, with the birth mother she had looked for her whole life, in a place where she could understand the magic inside her and people who wouldn’t be afraid of her.

People like Emma. 

"You could change the town's lighting to candles if you wanted, I mean, nothing's stopping you," Lily said, passing Emma the butter,  the moment passed. Her eyes were a little softer though, the quirk of her lips a little less wry and when Mal appeared to legitimately consider her suggestion she winked at Emma, the long lost prankster who had rescued Emma from being arrested for shoplifting poptarts flickering across her face. 

"Hmm," Mal almost purred, a wicked smile blooming on her face. “I could, actually.” She flicked her hand and the light bulb in the ceiling became a gaudy chandelier, covered in candles. It clashed horribly with the decor of the kitchen and was far too ostentatious. 

Henry looked up, one eyebrow arching - absolutely mature - at the twinkling crystal monstrosity. "Mom will hate that," he said dryly. 

Maleficent shrugged, unphased. "She can change it back. I could change all the street lights to torches, or gas lamps, or glowing crystals," Mal said, grinning slyly as she looked at her nails. "Perhaps we should have a town meeting and discuss the possibilities. Just because Storybrooke was invented in the middle of an age without style, doesn't mean it has to continue to look that way. That diner could be converted into a lovely little tavern with a thatched roof."

Lily made a choked sound, hiding behind her coffee mug, but Mal looked at Henry with such sincerity that Emma had to laugh, then Henry did, and then they were all joking about turning Storybrooke into some kind of strange combination between a Disneyland fairy tale village and something out of a steampunk daydream. Henry wanted more of a Hobbit-Lord of the Rings aesthetic,  Lily suggested gothic architecture like some of the more outlandish illustrations in the fairy tale book, and Mal considered it all very seriously because the cursed architecture of Storybrooke was all incredibly dull and she didn't understand why anyone in their right mind would want to keep it when they had the option to change it. 

"Your world could be equally beautiful, no more of these dull grey paths -  sidewalks? And these hanging wires,” Maleficent shook her head, pretending (or maybe she really was) offended. “Between your mothers, Lily, Ursula and I, we could make your little town a land of wonders," Mal told Henry. 

Emma honestly had no idea if she was serious or not, Mal's sense of humour was so dry that Emma (and she suspected Lily) both had no idea when she was joking,  but it really didn't matter because they were happy. Henry was laughing and Lily was smiling, her smile stripped of all the years between the little girl Emma  had  known and the woman she was now.  

Emma concentrated on eating her pancakes while Mal, Henry and Lily discussed whether or not the Hobbit had an equivalent universe in the fairy tale realms, and if Smaug would have ever left his treasure horde. Mal defended him, even though she hadn't seen the film, because she thought draconic greed was overdone as a stereotype. Lily and Henry argued with her, ending up on the same side and insisting that when the power was back on, that they'd watch the films so she could appreciate how beautiful their world was.

It was silly, really. They had so many other things to worry about, but the coffee was good and Henry made great pancakes, and this was family. Emma remembered breakfasts like this with Henry in their year together in New York, and breakfast with her parents and Henry, and lately Regina, before this whole mess took over their lives. This was normal. Silliness and laughter and pointless conversations: that was family. And they all needed it so badly, because even Maleficent, the great and terrible dragon, smiled when Henry and Lily laughed at the face she made when she accidentally sipped coffee gone long cold and reheated it with a tiny flame held in the palm of her hand. 

After two cups of coffee, Emma put one of Henry's pancakes on a plate, plain for Regina, because she remembered how terrible her own stomach had been some mornings when she'd been pregnant with Henry. If the pancake was too much, she could probably figure out how to make toast (or have Mal do it, since her fire control was significantly better than Emma’s). 

"I'm going to check on your mom," she said. "See if she'll accept for breakfast in bed." 

"No coffee?" Henry asked, holding up a mug. 

Emma could have kicked herself and she could feel Lily and Mal’s eyes on her. Regina without her coffee in the morning was another Dark Curse waiting to happen and she could only hope Henry wouldn’t suspect anything more than her own forgetfulness.  

"Thanks kid," Emma said, taking the coffee. "Probably would have gotten kicked out if I forgot." Lily and Mal shared a look behind Henry's head. It was going to be so much easier once he knew and it wasn't a secret. Leaving her own empty mug, Emma balanced the tray and headed upstairs with Regina's breakfast. 

* * *

 

The sun from the window now poured across the bed, but Regina didn’t appear to  have moved much since Emma left her, dark hair tousled on the pillow and her eyes still shut in sleep. Emma set the coffee and her pancake down on the nightstand, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, just watching Regina sleep for a moment.  It was so different, seeing her like this, still and quiet when so much of what made her Regina was motion and energy and sheer _presence._ In sleep she looked smaller, the edges  of her softened somehow and Emma wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around the sleeping woman and go back to bed. She wasn't at all surprised that Regina was still out and Emma hated to wake her.  She'd slept fine, better than Emma expected actually. Because they were so close,  or because Regina was back in her own bed Emma didn’t know. Either way she’d felt better; her skin a more normal temperature this morning.  Now she had the blankets pulled a little tighter around her shoulders and a soft brush of Emma’s fingers across her cheek said her temperature was rising again. Worry descended again, weighing  her shoulders and tightening her ribs.  Even if she knew the _why_ it still hurt to see Regina carrying this alone. 

Maybe tonight, if they conserved their strength, they could cast the spell that Mal thought would ease Regina's symptoms, and maybe then she'd feel better during the day. 

Glancing at the alarm clock, Emma realised that it hadn't changed because it was plugged in and there wasn't any power. She'd tried to save the battery on her phone, it was still dead, and Regina's intention of starting repairs by ten was probably long past, judging by how high the sun was. Emma debated. No one would judge them for taking some time, would they? Everyone else in town was capable of clearing streets, and making their homes livable again. Magic just made it faster. 

Storybrooke could handle Regina having a lazy morning in bed and taking the time to tell their son that she was pregnant. The needs of the whole town could wait just this once, because she wanted to get Regina accustomed to setting the boundaries now, so she didn't push herself too hard later. 

Emma leaned down and ran her fingers through Regina's hair, rearranging it on the pillow. Very gently, she kissed her cheek, trying to ease her awake. 

Her touch received a soft groan and Emma bit her lip. Reaching out, she took Regina’s hand where it was tangled in the covers, wrapping their fingers together and slowly, Regina's eyes opened. Well, sort of. What actually happened was she blinked, then squinted at the bright sunlight, her face scrunching up into the most adorable expression of disgust Emma had ever seen.   It was all Emma could do not to laugh,  so  instead she waved her hand, shutting the curtains part way. This time when Regina blinked up at her, she smiled, bleary and slightly unfocused and beautiful.  

"Morning," Emma said softly, squeezing Regina’s hand. "I brought you coffee and a pancake. If your stomach's like mine was, it might be easier if you eat before you get up, and skip the coffee. In fact, I'll drink it, that way Henry won't worry."

"He's worried?" Regina asked, losing her smile and struggling to sitting up. It was the wrong decision. Her eyebrows immediately knit together and she swallowed and Emma caught her shoulder, because just sitting up had shifted Regina from seeming so peaceful, to fighting not to throw up. 

"He's fine," Emma promised. She grabbed the pillow from her side of the bed and slipped it behind Regina so she'd be more comfortable sitting up. "I don't think he's used to you sleeping in, that's all."

Regina nodded, shutting her eyes and trying to beat her nausea through what appeared to be sheer force of will. "Who made breakfast?" 

"Henry, and Lily, I think. I assume Mal can't cook."

"Not unless it's meat and you want it rare on the inside and scorched on the outside," Regina muttered, and Emma got half a smile. 

"She doesn't get to run the grill at barbeques then," Emma replied, rubbing her shoulder. "You okay?"

"I thought-" Regina paused, wincing again as she balled her fingers into a fist in the blanket in frustration. "I thought this would stop if I was out of the damn gymnasium." 

Stroking her hair, Emma moved closer. "Give it a minute, then maybe try to eat the pancake? It's plain, so it shouldn't be so bad. If that's too much, I think I can make toast, even with my limited magic skills. Might waste a lot of the bread…"

"I'm okay," Regina promised her, though Emma in no way believed her. 

"It sucks, I remember," Emma reminded her, resting a hand on Regina's knee through the blanket. "Your stomach's a mess unless you eat, and sometimes even if you eat, and your head hurts and your boobs hurt, and you're so tired that all you want to do is sleep until it's over. That's _normal_. And Mal says this is worse, so if we need to poof into the bathroom, I'm ready, or I can get a bucket." 

"Because Henry will never worry about you suddenly needing a bucket in the bedroom," Regina’s tone was acerbic but the look she gave Emma took any sting out of her words. 

"I could be cleaning or something," Emma offered, pretending to be offended. Regina rolled her eyes 

"Like that's any more believable," she replied, her voice dry. 

Emma chuckled, acknowledging the truth in that,  and ran her fingers up and down Regina's arm. "If you need to throw up, that's fine. I'm here." 

"It's not really something I thought needed to be shared," Regina said, her voice low. She grimaced again and stared down at the bed. 

"It's nice to have someone to hold your hair," Emma said. There wasn't much else she could do at the moment. Mal hadn’t had time to show her how to ease Regina’s symptoms even temporarily, though considering Regina’s face, Emma was tempted to go ask her right now.  Not wanting to leave though, she sat still, rubbing her hand between Regina’s shoulders. 

Regina lifted her head, just a little. "Who held yours?" 

"No one," Emma said, without thinking. It was the past for her, even if the memories were still unpleasant. 

The hand that gripped hers tightly was a surprise and Emma looked up, seeing horror and sadness on Regina’s face. And guilt. “I'm so sorry," she whispered but Emma shook her head sharply. 

"Hey, no, don’t you dare. That was never your fault Regina. A lot of people made choices - _I_ made choices - that landed me in prison. And having Henry in prison was better than having him on the street," she said, her fingers squeezing, hard and steady, as she watched Regina’s eyes.  "And besides,” she said, softening. “He went to you, and I wouldn’t change that for _anything_.” 

In the soft gold light of morning, Regina’s eyes were dark amber, wide and glittering as she watched Emma, stunned into silence. It struck Emma then that as much as they’d been through, as much as they shared, she still owed Regina the words she wasn’t sure she’d ever said. “You’re a great mom, Regina. I gave him up to give him his best chance, and he got it.  So don’t apologize. Not for that.” 

It was rare to see Regina Mills without words, her face raw, expression completely unguarded and Emma felt that sharp splinter of shame because she knew the sources of that expression and she was one  of them. So when Regina finally managed to speak again, voice cracking with emotion, for once Emma knew what to say. 

So are you," Regina replied. "You're a good mom too, Emma. "

"Because I learned from _you_ ,” Emma said, squeezing Regina’s fingers in emphasis, letting her magic flow, just a little, just enough to make Regina _feel_ what she was trying to say. Growing up, Emma hadn't had many role models for parenting, and even fewer who could be considered ‘good’. Until Regina. Until she’d realised just how amazing Henry was and started to understand him, and Regina...and _Cora._ Once she'd started to _see_ , when she'd stopped fighting to take Henry away and realised how much he was loved, once Emma stopped letting her own guilt blind her to how hard Regina had worked, how hard she had struggled to give Henry everything that Regina never had, everything that Emma never _could -_ then Emma began to see just how amazing Regina truly was. She was the kind of mother Emma wanted to be - for real,  not just for a year with a foundation of Regina’s memories, but all the time; the kind of mom who knew what to say and what to do to make their kid feel loved and safe. The difference was, Emma knew just how hard Regina had fought to become that mother, how deeply afraid she still was of failing.   

"You thought I was an awful mother," Regina said, pulling back. She was over the old hurt, had forgiven Emma for what happened, but Emma knew how terrible she'd been. 

"And I was wrong, and I'm _so sorry_ ," Emma promised, kissing her cheek. "You're the mother I want to be like."

Regina’s eyes when she let Emma pull her close were so, so soft. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry discovers that he's going to be a big brother, Regina runs a town meeting about repairs, Emma overreacts a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Race continues to be the fantastically talented and generous editor of fic that she is and I am very grateful.

When Mal and Lily left to fly around the town and he got told to stay home, he knew Something Was Up.  Sure  enough, now instead of flying with them, Henry sat in his mom's study, across from her and Emma. Mom had her not-Mayor clothes on - jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater. The worst events always brought out her best suits and sharpest outfits and even though mom dressed more relaxed since Emma had moved in, this was still a major crisis. Mom wore her power suits like armour so the fluffy sweater was odd.  

More confirmation that Something Was Up soon followed and Henry catalogued the evidence silently. Emma had more coffee, but his mom had tea instead. Mom had told him his pancakes were delicious too many times, but he hadn't seen her eat one.  Emma shifted in her seat, almost squirming. Next to her, his mom sat rigid and straight, her posture perfect. They kept looking at each other, then back at him. He would have been scared, but whenever Emma glanced at his Mom (and _wow_ they were not good at being subtle) she got this _look_ on her face, kind of stupidly adoring actually, with a little smile.  It was kind of pathetic. Well maybe also cute but seriously, his moms were ridiculous. That look on Emma’s face told him that whatever was up wasn't that bad, though, so instead of demanding they tell him what was going on, he just crossed his arms and attempted to wait them out. 

Maybe they'd summoned the harpies somehow, or they needed to take another trip. As soon as he thought that though, he discarded the idea. Going over the town line was bound to make his mom sicker. Mom was never sick, ever, yet now she'd been sick for days and if she got worse, Emma was going to freak out even more. It didn’t take  long before Henry was out of ideas and didn't know what to think, leaning  back into the couch and staring. Mom's skin was still flushed pink and she seemed smaller, curled close to Emma. He’d noticed that a lot, even before they got together. Mom was more... _Mom_ around Emma than anyone else but him. And even more so lately. 

A dull shard of guilt lodged under Henry’s ribs,  remembering those  months when he’d thought her evil, when he’d seen everything about her as one more lie. He knew they were over that, but sometimes he thought he’d never be done trying to make that up to her, what he said and how he acted. He knew that she made mistakes too, so did Emma and Grandma and David. They all did. His family was pretty messed up. _Was_ pretty messed up. Now it was just...his. Now he understood that the woman in front of him - who wore baggy sweaters (cashmere, she’s not a _barbarian_ ) and curled up against Emma’s side and let herself be held was the same one who wore four inch stilettos and could silence an entire room with a glare. Just like Emma was a hero who’d made a lot of really bad choices, and hurt people she didn’t mean to. He thought about when he’d first read the Story Book, when everything was black and white and easy. 

Henry Mills really didn’t give a damn about easy anymore. 

Which was probably good since he had a hunch that another layer of ‘complicated’ was about to get added to all their lives. 

Mom started to say something, but stopped. Emma squeezed her hand, and they looked at each other again and _finally_ Mom seemed to find the words. "I know you’ve been worried. Emma and I wanted to tell you why I've been sick, together, so you don't have to keep worrying. It's not a bad thing, we promise."

"Okay." That didn’t make much sense at all. What kind of thing would make her so sick and not be a bad thing, except... _oh.  Oh Shit!_

He guessed half a second before she spoke. 

"Henry," she paused again, swallowing. Her eyes never left his, and she sat so still. "I'm pregnant," Mom finally said, her voice cracking a little on the words.

"Oh shit," Henry said, before he could stop himself, clapping his hand over his mouth.  He knew he wasn’t supposed to say that word, and Mom's eyes went wide. 

"Henry Daniel Mills," she snapped, appalled, and yeah, he was in for it.  Though, Emma just made that choking sound that said she was trying not to laugh and he could tell she was biting her tongue, so maybe this once, he'd get away with it. 

"I’m sorry, Mom, I was just...uh, wow...surprised." He smiled though,  and Emma gave him a slightly less gross version of the adoring face she’d been giving Mom. 

"That is not how you respond to surprise," Mom reminded him. Her voice was still sharp but her shoulders relaxed.  "But it was a shock for us too,” she trailed off.  Watching him as if waiting for something, her face  remained careful. For a moment he didn’t understand, but her knuckles were white because she held Emma’s hand so hard. 

It  hit him then, like having the wind knocked out of him. She was scared. His mom - who wasn’t afraid of anything - was scared. Of him. No, of him being upset.  He wanted to hug her then, and tell her that was ridiculous, because it was super obvious she was happy - but he was almost fifteen now. He wanted that careful expression to go away though,  it made him sick to his stomach. 

“So I’m going to be a big brother? Really?” 

And there, there was Mom’s smile, not careful but bright like the sun. Her eyes were a little shiny when she nodded and Emma thankfully turned the gross adoring face back on Mom. Which pretty much answered who the dad was, but that meant…

And uugh, mom sex was _so not_ a thing he wanted to think about but they were smiling at each other now and yeah, this was totally going to add another layer of complicated to their lives. 

 _Oh shit indeed._ “So uh...you and Mom, but I thought--"

"Magic," Emma said, shrugging and smiling. Oh god she looked _smug._ Nope, did need that image. Apparently neither did Mom, because she glared hard at Emma and it was nice to see someone else on the receiving end of that look. Except this was Emma and she never really had been phased by Mom’s glares and now she just straight up grinned. "Sorry, kid,” (she didn’t sound at all sorry, he was never going to let her live this down). “We knew it could happen but--"

"You weren't careful," Henry said, shaking his head at them both and oh yeah, now he had his revenge. Because Emma blushed and Mom bit her lip and tried to hide a smile behind her hand. His cheeks ached from the effort not to smile, to look stern and _very. serious._ “How long did you sit down and talk to me about safe sex Ma? ‘Always use protection, Henry’ ‘You owe it to yourself and your partner to be safe, Henry’” he raised his voice in a deliberately terrible imitation of Emma when she’d  given him the talk and watching her flush beet red was almost worth knowing his moms had sex.  Almost. 

Emma laughed, free and easy, and now it was apparently his mom’s turn to get that gross adoring look on her face, but she smiled too. He did good. The tension in the room eased a lot after that, and Henry thought the answer was pretty obvious but still, some part of him that was maybe not the adult side of fifteen wanted - needed - to hear them say it. 

“So you’re, you guys are happy?” 

 He was an unplanned baby, he knew that, Emma told him the truth years ago. It hurt at first, because he  was so busy trying to make Ma into someone she wasn’t - a perfect hero in love with his dad. Now it hurt because it would always remind him that he’d doubted how much his mom loved him. It was okay now though, better than okay, because whether it was fate or just luck, he had Mom, and a childhood he was only now starting to really appreciate. And he had Emma too. But part of “The Talk” had been about planning and responsibility (honestly she could have  just saved most of the talk, making him change his Uncle Neal’s diapers was super effective at driving _that_ lesson home) and he knew his moms hadn't planned another kid. 

"Yes," Emma said, and their hands tightened together. 

"We are," Mom added, beaming at Emma. Her expression turned serious a moment later though, and the next thing he knew, she shifted, moving off the couch and walking over to sit next to him. Her hands felt just like they always did on his shoulders, sure and strong and steady. When she nudged his chin upward with a finger it felt so familiar, and safe. Yet, he couldn’t ignore that he was as tall as she was, and that her eyes were still a little too bright, her cheeks still flushed. “Henry, we want you to know that we love you, and this doesn't change how we feel about you. You're our son, and the most important person in the world to both of us. You're not being replaced. This child--" 

Her voice cracked and he suddenly didn’t care that he was fifteen and supposed to be a grownup anymore. Reaching out, he pulled her into a tight hug. She felt small against him, but her arms were just as strong, the way she smelled - laundry detergent and soft perfume - all the same.  Her hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt and she sniffled a little. Then she pulled back first. If this were Emma he’d roll his eyes and make a bad joke, but his mom - his larger than life magic hero mom - felt small and human. She smiled like she might break, even if it was in a good way, and not that terrible empty smile he saw on her face when he was angry with her. 

So instead he let her hold on to him and tried to make her understand. “I know, Mom. I’m happy for you both. _Really.”_ When she still didn’t seem satisfied, he smiled a little. “We’re family, and it’s not about blood. It’s about love.” It had been what she’d told him so many times when he was younger  and upset about his adoption and he watched as his words affected her. “Mom, I have an uncle who’s fourteen years younger than me and a sister that’s older than one of my moms. Our family is weird, but its _ours._ I’m kind of excited to be a big brother.” 

He shrugged, looking away because it was all kind of just a lot. Then his mom hugged him again and whispered against his hair in a way that he guessed Emma wasn’t supposed to hear, “Thank you, my little prince.” 

“Okay, fine no more group hugs without me,” Emma grumbled. Suddenly, he was pulled against her side roughly, her hand messing up his hair, making him laugh and shove her. She shoved back, which turned into an attempted tickle war that ended with him on the floor when <om cleared her throat pointedly. 

“Honestly, I think being pregnant is redundant as I already have two children.” But she smiled, and so did Ma and yeah. This was okay. 

He watched them gravitate toward each other, Emma reaching out and Mom taking her hand until they sat side by side again. Emma nudged him with her toe and he threatened her with tickle claws but stayed sprawled on the floor.

Everything felt a little quieter after that, Emma not fidgeting, Mom leaning against her, all the tension in her posture gone.  Emma (thankfully) stopped throwing those gross adoring glances at Mom too, and Mom didn’t look quite so feverish, though the way she slouched told Henry she was still more tired than she admitted. 

"So this is why you've been sick?" He asked, watching her. Emma gave Mom a pointed look, which meant this was probably a conversation they’d already had. Where Mom nodded slowly, Emma answered him. 

“Yeah kid, magic makes it, well, it takes more out of your mom.” 

Henry frowned, more questions suddenly springing to mind. Ma must have read his expression because she shook her head gently. “We don’t have a lot of answers yet either, okay?” When she looked at Mom this time, he saw the uncertainty on her face. That more than anything made something cold clench in his stomach. Mom's skin was still too hot, her eyes too bright and her movements too slow. He had to remind himself that Ma was being overprotective and that Mom would be fine.  Babies happened all the time. 

 _Not like this, they don’t,_ that cold, scared little voice said in his mind. 

“Would Mal know more?” 

They didn’t look surprised he brought up Mal and he was grateful. He needed to have someone, someone _else_ , tell that him mom would be okay but there were some things you just couldn’t ask your parents. 

"She should. We have a lot of questions too, we just really haven’t  time to ask them. This is new to us too."

Henry was already making a list in his mind. At the top was a question he still felt fine asking.  "When are you going to start feeling better?" 

Mom looked at Emma, her forehead in tight lines and he knew before she said anything that it wouldn't be soon. 

"We don't know," Emma explained, frustration in her voice.

“It's all right," Mom promised, and Henry and Emma shared an identical ‘bullshit’ look that thankfully, she missed. "If I'm sick, then it's going well. The baby's taking what she needs."

"So don't worry?" Henry asked. His eyebrows raised and he looked from one of them to the other. Emma's face was too soft, too sympathetic, and Mom had that single frown line between her eyebrows.

"Don't worry more than we do," Emma said. Her voice was steady but Henry saw the way her mouth curved downward just a little bit too much. She was trying to pretend she wasn’t worried, though whether that was for his benefit or Mom’s though, he couldn’t tell.  Her next words though, were for him. “Your mom's going to be sick, and that's awful for her, and us, because we love her, but we've got this, okay?"  Henry could count on his hands the number of times Ma had used that tone with him, the one that said nothing about this was a joke, and she meant what she said completely.  

“Okay,” He said, and it sounded like more than an answer, it sounded like a promise. It felt like one too, and when  Emma looked at him, he nodded solemnly, as if they had made a pact between them. Maybe they had, not an operation but a vow: take care of Mom. 

"There's one more thing," Mom said. Staring at her hands before she looked back up at him, she shifted closer to Emma. "It's still early, so there are several reasons why this might not end with a baby. The risk is low, but considering my age, and our lives, there's a chance that... Everything's gone well so far. It should stay, I mean--" 

Emma put her arm around Mom’s shoulder, pulling her gently closer and when Mom looked down, he got it. 

"You mean miscarriage," Henry clarified, and fear made it hard to keep his voice steady. He managed though, because this was part of that promise, even now, Mom didn’t need to see that he was scared. Even if that cold fist was back, twisting his guts. "So that's a risk that we have to think about?" 

Mom nodded. She wouldn't lie to him, but he wasn't sure that she could speak. 

Emma must have thought the same thing because she answered in that same serious voice. "Even if something happens, your mom will be okay. Miscarriages usually don't hurt the mother. We didn't want to keep this a secret from you, but we're not going to tell anyone else, not yet. We'll share it later, when we're sure that your mom and the baby are both healthy. My doctor said you were okay when I made it into the second trimester." Emma explained, her arm around his mom. "So it'll be a few weeks before we're ready. We need you to keep it a secret with us. Mal and Lily know, but that's it." 

It made something warm and light push up at his ribs, that they trusted him. “I won’t tell,” he promised instantly.  His mom’s smile at that looked a little watery but Emma, Emma’s smile made him feel like a grownup, like he’d done something really right. 

"So uh, how do Lily and Mal know? Magic?" he asked when they’d been quiet for a bit.

"Sort of," Emma said. "I’m a little fuzzy on that myself."

Mom smiled that smile she got when Emma was being cute but dense. Henry saw that one a lot actually. “Dragons are more sensitive to changes in their environment so yes dear, magic. And it’s going to be fine. I'll be sick for awhile, then better, and in several months you'll have a sister," Mom promised. "I know it's strange, and complicated, but we don't want you to worry." 

"Okay,” he promised. He didn’t really mean it though. She was his mom, and this was huge, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He was going to worry. Henry could tell, however, this was one of those things where she was worried about him worrying, and so if he pretended like everything was okay, it would make her feel better. It was a little frustrating -adults made things really complicated, but when he chanced a quick glance at Emma, she gave him a subtle nod of approval.   

"Good," she said, and Henry got that she wasn’t really talking to him. "Mal has a spell should even out the drain on your mom's magic. Which should make her feel better."

 "So you won’t be sick anymore?"

Emma made a wry face, answering instead. “Well, that’s the idea, but I was pretty sick with you for a couple months, kid, no magic needed. That’s what crackers and ginger ale are for though.”  That soft, sympathetic look came back to her eyes and he knew Mom was pretty sick then, if Emma worried. 

"I'm fine," Mom promised, and when he raised his eyebrows she smiled, giving in. "I'm happy," she corrected. "I will be fine."

Emma poked him in the leg with her toe again, her mouth pulling down into a soft, serious line. “We don't want you to feel like you have to be happy right away, because it's a big change for us and--"

"I'm happy," he interrupted before Emma got herself too wound up. "I really am,"he said softly, trying to let Emma see he really meant it. Because he did. As long as mom was safe, as long as they were a family it was okay. 

Really damn weird. But okay. 

* * *

 

 

"When will we have the electricity back?"

"Why is my house on the bottom of the list?"

"You expect us to let a dragon into our homes?"

Emma winced on Regina's behalf, only barely resisting the urge to facepalm, or better yet, just shout down their stupid questions. Regina had just explained, with exacting detail, the thorough plan to repair the town.

And almost no one was happy with it. 

Emma was beginning to have a lot more sympathy for Regina’s decision to cast the Dark Curse. Honestly. 

"I'm quite happy to leave houses of the unwilling in a heap," Mal muttered under her breath, leaning slightly towards Emma. "They can just wait until a more suitable sorceress comes along."

Emma had to work to hold back the very inappropriate laughter that threatened to break loose at that image. 

Next to her, Henry bit his lip to hide a smile.  On his other side,  Lily leaned down,  asking just loud enough Emma could hear. "What's with the dragon hate?"

"Old prejudices," he whispered back. "Ruby says they're not too happy about werewolves either."

"Great."

Mal touched her knee and Emma watched Lily settle, her frown easing as she turned her attention back to Regina. The way she watched Regina speak to the town was almost awed. Emma couldn’t really blame her, Regina was in full Madam Mayor mode, radiating competency and power; amazing to watch.  

Emma thought about past town hall meetings and some of her irritation faded. She remembered when she first came to Storybrooke,  the way Regina commanded a room had been captivating - and ridiculously sexy - even then. Only now Emma could watch the woman in front of her without wanting to slap that superior attitude off her face. 

They really had come along way.  

"Ursula's timely storm saved us all. The cleanup is proceeding. And yes, we're resilient enough to survive a few days without electricity," Regina spoke, her words clipped and brooking no argument.   "Anyone who needs alternative light sources should remain after the meeting. We will provide for you. Granny's diner will be offering meals for all who need them."

A general noise of approval rose, followed by a smattering of applause, and Granny waved from her seat. Knowing they had food and light helped the town's patience and the temperature in the room began  to ease. For the first time in what seemed like hours, Emma let herself slump back in her chair, ire  fading. 

 Fixing power lines was tedious, delicate work which left them exhausted. Emma was getting better at it (through unending practice) but it was a dull way to spend a day and she had little patience for civic matters even on her best days.  These were not her best days.

Still it was almost...fun, to watch Regina taking charge.  There was no doubt she had a gift for command, and even the most stubborn idiots had to admit she knew more about how to run the town than anyone.  It wasn’t long before the grumbling  tapered off and Regina wrapped up the last few questions, preparing to hand the meeting over to Mulan, who would take volunteers for the patrols they were setting up around the town’s border. 

Regina was just sitting back down in her chair, appearing at ease while she studied her papers when someone spoke up from the back. 

"Will there be another attack?" Emma turned, but couldn't see a face. She caught Mulan’s eye, sharing a ‘ _are you shitting me with this_?’ look. They had been so close to being done. 

And then, because the universe had it out for Emma, before Regina or Emma or Mulan could speak up and say something reasonable, Cruella had to go and open her mouth. 

"Of course, darling," Cruella said, and she smiled, as if fascinated by the idea. "Darkness doesn't just fade. You have to burn out the roots, salt the earth, and still even then, it finds a way."

Emma swore she could _hear_ Mulan grinding her teeth. 

Worried murmuring took the crowd and Regina lifted a hand to hush them, shooting a glare at Ursula who rolled her eyes but did wrap her arm around Cruella’s waist, whispering  something none of them could hear (thankfully, judging  by the way Cruella’s eyes lit up). "We'll determine the source of these infestations. Belle's already researching summoners of note in the tales of the Enchanted Forest. Your Sheriff and I will follow the leads we can find, and Deputy Fa's patrol schedule will ensure that the town defended. Should this summoner strike again, we are prepared."

"And then what?" Whale said from the far corner. "It took a hurricane to defeat the harpies. What will we use next? A volcano? An earthquake? How long will it take to repair the town then?" Whale turned up his hands as if helpless, but he wasn’t a good enough actor to hide the smug undertone. He was doing this on purpose. 

Emma imagined just how satisfying it would feel for her fist to connect with his nose. 

Apparently she wasn’t the only one. 

"As long as it takes," Mulan snapped. Emma blinked. She knew  Mulan had stubborn,  contrary streak a mile wide, but she didn’t usually get angry. That was more Emma’s style. Emma wasn’t about to try and stop anyone from ripping Whale a new one though, and when Regina opened  her mouth, Emma shook her head almost imperceptibly. Whale must have gotten under Mulan’s skin at some point and Emma was more than happy to watch him get what he deserved.   “Are you suggesting we aren’t doing all we can to protect _our home?_ "

"He wasn't suggesting that, Deputy," District Attorney Spencer said. The former King George, whatever he was called now, stood up. When he spoke, old loathing rose in Emma's chest. "I believe the doctor was asking how we're going to protect our town. The people of Storybrooke are to trust that two dragons and the sea witch will protect us?" 

A low rumble rolled through the hall, distant  thunder on the air. Emma glanced at where Mal sat, entirely too at ease, eyes bright with dangerous amusement. Lily looked at her shoes. Ursula shifted a tentacle, reminding the crowd of her power. 

It got  very quiet for a moment. 

Stepping into the silence, Emma put her hands on her hips. She caught Mulan’s lips quirking in a grin as she stepped back before turning her attention to the assembled townspeople. Most she knew of course, and most she - if not trusted, at least placed them in the ‘not a troublemaker’ category. Ruby and Granny were glaring at George and Whale and Emma thought she saw  the corner of Red’s lip pull up in a snarl. 

"My mother was a bandit and my father a shepherd, and they're your heroes," Emma said.  She hadn't made peace with her parents, and she knew what they'd done, but the town looked up to them. She could use that to keep the town together. "I'm a former inmate, but you keep saying I’m your savior, when the truth Regina’s saved this place more than I have.  It doesn't matter what any of us were, what matters is what we are. This is our home, we protect it, and you chose Regina to lead you, so listen to her. Whatever's still coming, we'll beat it." Heat flushed her cheeks and she held George’s gaze, loading her final words with a warning even he couldn’t miss. She had no reason to suspect his involvement in this, but she also wouldn’t put it past him and it was gratifying to watch him swallow and sit back down almost meekly. 

"She's right," Snow added, and stood.  She glanced at Emma and it was all Emma could do not to turn away. Instead returning to her seat with as much poise as she could manage which...probably wasn’t  much. 

A light brush of fingertips against her arm steadied her and she caught Regina’s knowing  look. It helped push away the anger as the way people instantly gave Snow their full attention. Emma wasn’t even sure why it surprised her anymore. The town looked at Snow with blind devotion, she was their princess. Even if they knew what she’d done it probably wouldn’t make any difference. Lily's kidnapping had been done in the name of the “greater good.”

Even  thinking about it her fists itched, wanted to curl into fists, a scream pushing up between her ribs and  she had to swallow it down, again and again and again because no matter what, Snow was her mother and  this wasn’t the time or the place. 

Snow spoke, and the town agreed with her. Emma kept silent in her seat, tried not to let her anger show  because at least Snow supported Regina. She then defended Maleficent and praised her decision to protect the town. She said everything right.  Emma’s jaw ached. 

Emma met Regina's eyes, dark and knowing even in the expressionless mask she seemed to wear so effortlessly. Regina held her composure better than anyone Emma had ever met. That used to drive her crazy, made her want to get under the other woman’s skin, to make her react, make her admit she was _human_. 

Now Emma knew exactly what lay beneath the perfect facade of Madam Mayor - she knew the woman, the mother, the lover, who loved so hard and bled all too easily,  who even now was running a fever and probably still had an upset stomach and yet she sat ramrod straight, perfectly composed and attentive.  Not to Snow though, but to Emma. To anyone else Regina’s expression probably gave away nothing but Emma could see the worry. For _her._ It made something  in her twist with shame, but mostly it made her angry at Snow all over again. Because Emma knew why Regina held herself so carefully, knew it was her armor, that she was hurting too and Emma hated it. She just wanted to go home, cup that beautiful face in her hands and kiss Regina softly till all her masks fell away, until they could just have dinner with their son and curl up on the couch, or watch Mal teach Lily magic in the backyard while Henry played with his DS nearby. 

“Thank you,” Snow said  loudly, sitting back down and breaking Emma out of her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. Regina’s fingers brushed the back her hand, just long enough for Emma to feel a tingle of her magic, warm and calm and understanding, buoying her.  

With the meeting _finally_ ended, Emma gathered all her deputies to plan the nightly patrols  and set shifts. Between Mulan, David, Ruby and some of the Merry Men, they were at least not short of (mostly) competent people. As they drew up the patrol schedule, she included herself in the list, but Mulan stopped her with a shake of her head. 

"Sheriff, we'll need you, the Mayor, Maleficent and Ursula on standby as backup. We can handle patrols until we find something that needs your expertise." 

"Oh, uh, right, good plan," Emma agreed. Unused to being able to rely on anyone but herself and Regina it felt strange to step back, to not be rushing into everything. Mulan seemed to guess the direction of Emma’s thoughts, her lips quirking upward into a brief, wry smile.

“Don’t worry, you won’t get shelved,” she said.

Emma took a moment, trying to place the word in that context, then tilted her head. "You mean benched?"

"Is that it?" Mulan asked. "I see. Then you won't be benched." She proceeded to punch Emma in the shoulder, which, _ow._ But it made her grin, and the soft look in Mulan’s eyes told Emma that was the goal. “Go on, we’ve got this covered, take care of her,” Mulan said, her voice quiet enough to be for Emma’s ears alone. Emma could only nod her thanks. 

She left Mulan and Ruby discussing schedules and routes, a thought occurring to her as she looked for Regina. Mulan had been a general, maybe she’d be interested in becoming Sheriff, leaving Emma free to become just another Deputy - 

Then she saw Regina and put future career moves aside for another day.  Regina stood beside Lily, speaking to Tinkerbelle. Tink was a friend, and Regina smiled as they spoke, so okay, she was fine. Emma still wanted to go home and get away from the crowds, at least until they could do whatever this spell Mal had in mind. Maybe then Regina could look her in the eyes and convince her that she was okay. 

Moving quickly to avoid any more questions (No, none of the patrols had seen anything dangerous recently, yes, all the damaged houses would get fixed, yes, for the moment Storybrooke was calm. It seemed like Emma answered these same questions until her jaw ached and she wanted to scream. Fortunately, her da...Charming, seemed in his element and so did Mulan, so Emma finally directed everyone till them and slipped away) Emma slipped through the crowd toward where she’d seen Regina and Tink. She found them deep in conversation with Archie and Kathryn and a few people Emma didn’t recognize, but Regina was obviously busy, and also obviously okay, so Emma forced herself to stay back, instead finding Ursula, leaning against a wall by the window. 

Cruella stood just outside, cigarette in a long holder, smiling as thin plumes of smoke rose from the cigarette. Emma envied her the quiet. Fortunately, Ursula didn’t seem to need anything  and the two just stood in companionable silence for a while until Mal’s deep, rich laugh caught their attention.  

"I've never seen her this happy," Ursula said, tilting her chin towards Maleficent. The tall woman stood apart from the main crush of people milling about, talking to Granny near the back of the room, and she looked often at Lily. "You did a good thing bringing the kid back."

"You saved the town with a hurricane," Emma replied, shrugging.  "That was pretty badass."

"I'm glad it worked, but I doubt it'll work again," Ursula said, nodding her thanks. She had a wide, easy smile, and Emma appreciated how frequent it was. Of all their three newest magic users, she seemed the most grounded. Maybe because she already had her happy ending and wasn’t afraid it would be taken away again.  "We're opening our little tavern up tonight, if you and the queen need a drink after all your road work."

"Thanks, but-" Emma stopped, looking for Regina again. She had no quick excuse and she'd need one. Everyone in town would think she was trying to hide Regina away, which maybe she was, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. What she didn’t want, though, was rumors starting.  "Repairing takes a lot out of us," she offered, knowing it was a lame excuse. Across the room, Henry was with Belle. The Blue Fairy, Whale, and that horrible King George, were nowhere close to Regina. Relieved, Emma sighed. 

If Ursula thought anything of Emma's wandering attention, she was kind enough not say, apparently the one person in all of Storybrooke who wasn’t nosy as Hell. Emma liked Ursula even more in that moment when she simply asked, "Repairs are going well then?"

"Roads are easy, but the power lines are ridiculous," Emma answered. Forcing herself to focus on the conversation and stop worrying. Regina was safe, and she'd be fine. It wasn't fair to the town that needed them both right now that Emma wasn't ready to share, that she couldn’t stop thinking about how underneath her power suit armor Regina still looked so delicate. Although Emma was willing to concede that she might have been the only one to think that. With her stiletto heels and her blood red lipstick, Regina wasn’t having any problem cutting a severe enough figure to keep people in line.  Emma _knew_ she was worrying for nothing. 

But the ache she felt, like a string wrapped around her heart, wasn’t lessened by something as frail as logic. 

"Sorry about that," Ursula teased. "Next time I’ll be more careful." Emma appreciated the quiet humour and smiled. 

Finished with her cigarette, Cruella returned, and Emma watched the crowd part for her. The woman seemed to thrive on the cold looks and the whispers, grinning as if she walked the red carpet. Emma couldn’t quite wrap her head around Cruella.  Mal paid little attention to how the town saw her, viewing all mortals as more or less beneath her.  Ursula fit in easily, her level-headed demeanor, beautiful voice and the fact she ran a great bar - and had no history with anyone in the town - made it seem like she had always been here.  Cruella on the other hand, seemed to relish the distance people kept from her.  Emma still didn't know much about her beyond the Disney story, but she hadn’t threatened any puppies since she’d come to town and seemed to genuinely care about Ursula, if not much else. Emma didn’t trust her, but Cruella felt more like walking chaos than someone who would actively threaten the town. 

"We don't need electricity, darling. Most of this rabble's lived their lives without it," Cruella said, leaning against the wall beside Ursula and waving her hands at the crowd dismissively. "Just give them some candles and be done with it." 

"I wish we could," Emma muttered. "Would be easier."

Cruella shrugged, languid and haughty as if to say ‘no skin off my nose’ and Ursula 

It happened in the instant she forgot, some terrible application of Murphy’s law, the instant Emma turned her attention fully to Cruella and Ursula’s subtle banter and forgot to worry - 

"Get back," someone yelled, cutting through the general babble of the crowd like a stone shattering glass. "Get away from her." 

Emma spun, heart hammering in her throat, looking for the source of that voice. Deep, hissing and low, so it carried, the voice was-

Lily.

She stood in front of Regina, dark smoke that swirling around her feet and rising up to cover her body. The crowd retreated like water. Mal blinked herself over there, in one place, then another. She grabbed Lily's shoulders and they were gone in an instant. The smoke still hung near Regina but the dragons were outside. In the parking lot, first Lily wreathed herself in darkness, then Mal followed her and changed form. Everyone gasped awed, or frightened, or both; some ran to the window to watch the two dragons take to the sky as an ear splitting roar rattled the glass and shook the walls.  

As soon as Mal and Lily disappeared though, Emma was at Regina’s side, stepping in front of her as if to shield Regina with her body, because Lily was right. They needed to get away.  Emma’s magic rose with her anger, tight and hot, like flames on her skin. She hadn’t felt this way since the Dragon fire spell but she embraced it, grasping at the power with both hands. 

"Emma, I'm sorry," Snow pleaded, eyes wide and liquid and hurt.  That expression would have made Emma back down once, would have made her want to apologize, to reach out and do whatever it took to make peace, but not this time.  It was all still too close - her parent’s lies, Lily’s suffering, Regina’s vulnerability, Emma knew she was overreacting but really couldn’t bring herself to care. 

"Don't," Emma said, her voice low and almost as much of a growl as Lily’s had been. "This isn't--"

A touch at her arm, Regina’s magic safe and steady. Emma blinked. 

Everyone watched them - Henry, Granny, the fairies, Ruby, only Mulan looked elsewhere, surveying the rest of the room with a cop’s eyes. Everyone else that hadn’t run to the window to watch the dragons stared at them now. It was the worst possible time to have things out, but Emma wasn't letting her parents near Regina, or their daughter. Not for a very long time. 

"Emma," Regina said, drawing her attention. The soft touch became a steady hand on her shoulder, gentle but Regina's beautiful eyes seemed to be all pupil and her hand was too warm and Emma couldn't just-- "Emma, it's fine," she repeated, her voice firm and calm.  Then Henry was beside them, standing in front of his mom, and Emma forced herself to pull it together. 

"Sorry," she muttered, "sorry, I guess we're all just a little on edge." 

"Everything's fine," Regina said, projecting her voice and her calm around the room. "Transforming is new to Lily, and she's still learning to control it. She's fine."

Ruby nodded and took a step forward, her voice filled with too much knowledge. "Being a shapeshifter's hard enough if you haven't had your whole life to get used to it. Something must have spooked her. Everyone just go back to what you were doing." 

There was muttering, but gradually the crowd calmed, taking Ruby’s advice. It didn’t happen fast enough for Emma,  her skin crawled from the eyes on them, shoulderblades itching with the instinct to run, to fight, to take her family and _get out_. The way she'd looked at her parents was going to be the topic of discussion all over town now. 

"I'm done here," Emma said. Regina squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her, or maybe protect her from herself. "Can we go?" 

Emma's mother looked at her, expression hurt and raw, but Emma ignored it, forced the tiny voice of long-learned guilt down under the hot flush of anger. She had her own children to protect and she didn't, couldn’t trust Snow around Regina right now.   

"Have you finished-?" Regina began to ask and Emma nodded, frustrated enough to interrupt. 

"Mulan has the patrol schedule.” Emma bit the inside of her cheek, focusing herself in the sharp pain. She was too on edge and too close to taking that out on anyone, even Regina, and she couldn’t allow that.  She'd already sat through three hours of Regina trying to take care of the town full of ungrateful morons and she was sick of it. Lily was right to not want her kidnappers anywhere near her mother. Going full dragon was overkill, but she'd had a handful of days to try and get used to her other self. The town owed her a break, especially Emma's parents. 

"It's late," Regina said evenly, ever the diplomat. "It's been a long meeting and we're all still recovering from the shock of having our homes turned upside down. Emma and I have a another long day tomorrow, so Snow, David, will you excuse us?"

"Of course," Snow answered, nodding to Regina. She stepped aside, but something raw and hurt and hungry remained in her eyes, making Emma want to step between Snow and Regina again. Regina pretended not to notice, tugging Emma’s hand as if absolutely nothing was wrong.  "Good evening then."

Henry - with all the ease and skill only a kid raised by Regina could manage - smiled at his grandparents, giving Snow a quick hug. It cut the tension between the group and pushed back some of the anger Emma still struggled with. It was hard to be pissed off when your kid was being that awesome. He was going to be impossible when he was older. 

Charming took Snow’s arm, leading her away and Henry moved to follow Emma and Regina. 

They’d barely started toward the doors when he stopped, though, tilting his head towards Belle and Ruby. "Would it be okay if I got dinner at Granny's with Belle and Ruby? "

Emma and Regina shared a glance. "Bored of us already?" Regina teased softly, reaching out and brushing his hair back from his face. For the first time since Lily had yelled, Emma felt a smile tugging at her lips. She knew what he was doing, so did Regina, but none of them were going to say anything. He'd be safe with Belle and Ruby, the town was almost his family too and short of his parents or Mal there were few people more qualified to keep him safe than Ruby. 

"If you're certain," Regina said. When she opened her arms, Henry walked straight into them, hugging her tight. With her heels she was taller than him again but only barely and emotion swelled up in Emma’s chest, fierce and bright and more than a little painful at just how grownup their son was. 

"I'm good," he promised them both. "Belle's been researching the harpies and wants someone to talk to who won't get bored by what she's found." 

"Go," Emma said after Regina nodded. "Be home by nine."

"Nine-thirty," Regina allowed, taking Emma's hand again. "And remember, the phones still aren't working. You can't tell us if you're going to be late, so you'll need to be punctual."

"Could send up a flare," Henry joked. He patted Regina's arm, smiling. "I'll be okay."

"I know." She shut her eyes for a moment, then nodded to him. "Before nine-thirty."

"Yes, moms." 

"He's too smart," Emma muttered.

Regina nodded and watched him walk towards Belle. "He's giving us space."

"So we can talk about how terribly I overreacted?" Emma sighed, only half-joking. 

Instead of chastising her, Regina touched Emma's cheek. "Perhaps," she replied, then sighed and took a step closer. "Let's go home."

"Before I say anything else I'll regret?" Emma asked, knowing she probably needed to apologize. 

"Because I'm tired," Regina said, lowering her voice to a whisper. She squeezed Emma's hand for emphasis and sighed. "And, since I've promised to be honest, our neighbours have made my head ache and it's stuffy." 

"It really is, isn't it?" Emma answered, shaking her head. 

"Let's go," Regina said, gentle, not demanding. Emma shifted her weight, kept hold of Regina's hand, and with a single thought, brought them home. 

It never even occurred to her until they were home what it would look like, the two of them disappearing together in front of a crowd. 

 _To Hell with it,_ Emma thought as Regina locked the door behind them. 

Once they were safe behind the walls of Regina's- their- house, Regina tugged her closer and kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, then her lips. Her arms slid around Emma’s waist, their bodies pressed together. Regina was soft and warm, her lips tender against Emma’s, not demanding, assurance and care and _home_ and against this tenderness Emma had no defense. Slowly the tension bled from her shoulders, her lungs expanding, she pulled Regina closely against her, pressed a kiss to her too-hot forehead and let out the breath she didn’t remember holding. 

“There you are,” Regina murmured softly, reaching up to cup Emma’s face, not letting her look away in embarrassment.  "You're cute when you’re overprotective," Regina whispered against Emma’s lips, kissing her one more time while Emma tried not to melt into the floor. One last kiss to the very tip of her nose and then Regina moved away, leaning on the wall to step out of her heels. In her bare feet she seemed so much smaller, vulnerable yet so strong, she reached for Emma's shoulder and stroked her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Emma argued. Looking into Regina's endless eyes and the concern on her face broke her, just a little. "No."

Regina nodded, then moved toward the kitchen. "Come on, I'll make you coffee."

"Regina," Emma protested, then stopped, taking off her boots. She wasn't supposed to trek dirt across the entryway and they were filthy. Hopping awkwardly on one foot, she stuffed them in the closet, then turned and grabbed Regina’s heels too.  She had to put them in the closet or Regina would just make that little noise with her tongue.  

Hurrying into the kitchen in her socks, Emma found Regina already had the french press out, two mugs on the counter and a tea bag in her hand for herself.   

"Thank you for putting my shoes away," Regina said with an evil little smirk. 

 _Of course_ she’d known, and done it on purpose, because if there was anything that was familiar and comforting about their relationship, it was Regina being bossy and having no shame in making Emma do chores.  And it _was_ familiar and comforting. By the time she dropped herself onto a barstool and slouched against the counter, another layer of frustration fell away, like shedding clothes when you came in from a frigid winter’s day. The smell of fresh ground coffee filled the air as Regina opened the canister and Emma watched the water in the french press come to a boil with a flick of Regina's wrist. 

The silence stretched out, heavy but not uncomfortable and Emma let it, unsure what to say. She didn't want to talk about her parents. They were home and she didn't want to ruin it. After a few minutes, Regina pressed and poured the coffee with deft movements and then passed the mug over, waiting until Emma wrapped her fingers around smooth, warm porcelain before sitting down herself. She flicked her fingers at her mug of tea and then took a seat across from Emma, watching her through the steam that curled gently upward. 

"Your mother isn’t going to hurt me," Regina said at last, her voice too gentle and patient. Emma wanted to squirm. 

"Yeah," she replied, staring at the counter. "I know that, I just..." She made herself look up, because Regina was waiting, and she'd keep waiting until Emma figured out what she needed to say. That meant Emma couldn't get out of admitting what bothered her. "I didn't want her to talk to you."

"She asked out of concern," Regina offered . "She knew I'd been ill the day before yesterday and she wanted to see if I felt better."

Lifting her coffee, Emma touched her lips to her mug, testing the temperature. Sharp heat bit at her lips and she put it back down. Damn. "And you lied?"

Toying with her teabag, Regina pulled it out by the string and set it aside, placing the bag neatly on a waiting saucer. "I was entirely honest and told her that you took good care of me."

Blowing on her coffee, Emma smiled wearily. "I brought you a plain pancake, Regina, that’s - " she shrugged. It never felt like enough. 

"If you'd put anything on it, I doubt I would have kept it down." Regina stated simply. 

Emma looked down, finger tracing the handle of her mug.  

"Emma, I'm fine."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "It's just. It’s not enough." 

The soft clink of ceramic on tile was the only sound and then the next thing she knew, gentle fingers sat on her wrists, sliding up her arm and nudging her gently around to face Regina. 

“Emma, you sat in bed with me," Regina said, her voice so, so soft.  "You brought me breakfast and convinced me to eat it. I would have tried to ignore my stomach and get up, and insisted I was fine while making it worse."

"That's not-" Emma protested, shaking her head.

“Emma stop.” A hint of steel and Emma shut up. Slim fingers threaded through her own, Regina’s magic  bright and soft, slipped between them, as easy as the air they breathed. “We said honesty right?” She didn’t wait for Emma’s tentative nod to continue. “Yes, my stomach feels terrible, I’m tired, and that meeting was a chore. I almost miss the days of the curse.” Emma looked up, caught the gentle twinkle in Regina’s eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners before softening, wide and steady. The hands holding hers squeezed, held Emma tightly. “I don’t like crowds. I never have. But I never - not for one _second_ \- felt unsafe today. Do you understand?” And maybe because Emma was slow or maybe just because magic was emotion and theirs was inescapable, Emma _felt_ the words inside her, knew the warmth that Regina associated with her, and the awe - even now - that someone would step in front of her. 

“I still overreacted.” 

“You did,” Regina said gently, kissing Emma’s brow. “But do you really think I’m going to be upset that your first instinct is to protect me? Protect us?” She took their joined hands, pressing them carefully against her. 

Reaching out with her magic was simple, instinctive, like stretching her fingers to meet Regina’s hand. Slipping off the stool, Emma moved close, letting her forehead rest against Regina’s and closing her eyes. Feeling Regina was easy, like muscle memory, her magic was home and safe, and touching it was touching her, so bright and real that Emma could trace it with her fingers. Regina's breathing slowed, mingling with Emma's. Their hearts beat loud together, keeping time. The baby would be beneath, delicate, barely--

Like a spark, just a tiny flame - like a candle - compared to the burning sun that was Regina’s life force, but it was there, still so small but so beautiful. Emma wasn’t conscious of thinking anymore, her whole world stilled, narrowed, everything falling away but the connection between her and Regina and that tiny little light beneath their joined hands. She could keep it safe, couldn't she? Help her grow. She could swear that the little flame strengthened when she focused on it, so she focused more, love and family and _safe_ rushing up to fill her heart, magic pulsing bright inside her, down her arm to her fingers and -  

Regina's eyes went wide and she gasped, grabbing Emma's hand. Her grip, tight and unyielding, yanked Emma back from wherever she'd been, fear clambered her veins and all the air hissed from her lungs what had she done, what if she’d hurt Regina oh fuck _oh fuck..._

"Emma--" but Regina’s voice wasn’t panicked, it was thick and rough, pulled from her lips on a sigh. 

"Oh fuck Regina are you okay? Tell me you're okay." Emma searched her face, but Regina just licked her lips and oh, why was that so gorgeous? Her pupils all but disappeared in her eyes and she smiled, that bright, bright smile that was just blinding. 

“I’m okay,” she whispered, holding Emma's hand tight against her belly. "What did you do?"

"I tried to protect her," Emma said. Her thumb stroking small circles across Regina's belly, Emma slowed her breathing, trying to calm down. Regina was fine, she was smiling. She looked at Emma with that particular “ _I love you but you’re an idiot_ ” look so it was fine. Everything was fine, she could breathe again. Maybe.  

"She's there, I can, I guess I can feel her. She's so little."

"Of course she is," Regina said. Her lips pressed warm against Emma's, and their magic responded to the proximity and emotion, reaching out like gentle currents, merging together until everything was bright, so bright Emma could almost see it in the physical world. "At the oldest, she’s probably only eight weeks. She's not taking up much space."

“She’s beautiful,” Emma murmured. Regina didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to, Emma could feel it in her magic, in the way she let Emma wrap arms around her shoulders and hold her close, in the way Regina’s heart beat steady and sure against Emma’s breast.

She was theirs, of course she was beautiful.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Regina talk about what bonding their magic means. The next mysterious bad arrives with deadly consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains descriptions of blood, gore and dead bodies. 
> 
> Thanks again to Race for continuing to be fantastic and so supportive.

Maleficent loved the darkness. Not the insipid human metaphor for evil, but those hours when the sun was gone from the sky, letting her see the vastness of the cosmos above.  Dragons were more comfortable than humans with the idea of being tiny and alone in a great universe, so while the puny people of the town scuttled from light source to light source, Maleficent walked unafraid. With the street lights out and the magical replacements not as painfully bright, the stars could be seen, twinkling above.  How they constantly sought to deny themselves this sight was beyond her understanding. 

Perhaps Regina could be reasoned with that the warm, welcoming globes of light that Reul Ghorm, and her otherwise useless troupe of glittering minions, had conjured should stay. To aid her decision, Maleficent waved her hand and did away with the ugly metal and wooden posts that held the old lights and replaced them with delicate, curled poles that were much more pleasing. 

She sensed him long before the soft chuckle reached her ears, had in fact been waiting for him ever since she felt him in the diner as she flew over head.  She could ‘see’ the tracking and protection spells Regina had woven into every stitch of his clothing - likely the only reason she let her son out of her sight - but it was dark, and humans were small, even brave boys with their mothers’ courage.  So Mal waited and enjoyed the stars overhead. 

"Eventually someone will notice that you keep changing things." 

She turned her head and caught his smirk, eyes able to see him easily even in the soft light.  "They're much nicer."

Henry nodded and waited for her to stand from the bench. "Yeah, and they don't need power, and even though they're pretty, I bet they're stand up to a hurricane if they need to."

Mal dropped her hand to his shoulder. "You'd agree that the precedent has been set, has it not?"

"Yeah, sturdy is definitely good." He turned towards home, but didn't walk. He knew she'd teleport them. Concern softened his face, the young boy returned, if only for a moment. "Is everything okay?"

Mal nodded. "Your mothers are fine, everything seems to be quiet. Lily is spending some time away from fragile creatures."

"Dragon time?" Henry asked, eyes lighting up. His acceptance of them in his life was a balm Maleficent hadn’t realized she’d needed. She had long since ceased to care for him solely because he was Regina’s son.  

Teleporting them to Regina's garden with a lazy thought, Maleficent nodded, following him up the stairs to the back door. "If she understands that side of herself better, it will be easier for her to be the other. The high forest along the cliffs is far from town, and full of game, she'll be safe there and I’ll join her soon."

Henry stopped in front of the door, turning to her. "And my mom? Did you help Emma cast that spell yet? Is she still sick?" The strength in his words brought a smile to her lips. Not such a young boy at all.  

"The spell is demanding, not of me, but of your mothers and it will be kinder to them if they cast it in the morning. No matter her symptoms, Regina is strong, and the magic between her and Emma is equally so. I know it's difficult to watch and know you can't help her--"

"Like you did." He had a mind like dragon's teeth, this one. 

She sighed. Even with her long memory, some thoughts of Regina were still acute. "I did. And it hurt a great deal, but in the end she didn’t need me. Regina brought herself out of pain and darkness, in no small part because of you,  I think.” 

A human wouldn’t have been able to see him flush, but she could feel his pride and slight embarrassment. Mal kept herself from smiling at his discomfort. “And she is not alone. You’re young and may not understand Henry, the power of just having others who care about you. Regina has you, and and Emma--"

"And you and Lily."

Seeing no reason to deny it, Mal simply nodded. "Yes, we have a strange nest but nothing is more important, you know that." 

"Nest?" Henry asked with a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow that was the absolute mirror of Regina. 

She rolled her eyes. So much Regina lived in this boy. "Those that you trust to sleep beside you, family is an imprecise term but it’s as close as your human tongue comes."

His smile took over his face. "So our nest is safe?"

"Yes, now, lets check on your mothers." 

* * *

 

Waking up to concerned faces above her was becoming irritatingly common. This time Mal's bright blue eyes stared down at her. "Regina?"

Her headache seemed to come and go at random, and had been thankfully absent for days, was now back in full force. Even without moving her head pounded, although for the moment, she wasn't nauseated, so she called that victory. 

Groggy, Regina blinked, trying to grasp her surroundings through the sticky fog of sleep. Emma had made dinner, and then they'd sat in the living room with a fire and the ball of magelight she and Emma cast, waiting for Henry to come home. Emma had been reading -  Regina's blurry eyes found the abandoned book, resting on the sofa by her legs - and she’d had her head in Emma's lap again because that pressure behind her eyes had started not long after they sat down.  Emma had offered a head rub and the last thing Regina remembered was gentle fingers on her scalp. 

Now it was obviously late enough that Henry was home. He watched them and the corner of his mouth twitched upward and he seemed amused, which Regina took as grateful proof she looked better than she  felt. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her pulse was like a hammer in her skull. 

"It's nine-twenty, Mom," Henry said. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

"We're not really up," Emma said from above her, voice thick and a little slurred.   Apparently they'd both been asleep. 

"How's your head?" Mal asked, kneeling down in front of her. 

"It feels like the dwarves are mining in my skull,” she muttered, rubbing her hand over her face. 

Mal merely nodded, unsurprised,  and reached out to stroke gentle fingers against her temple.  "I can take it away, for awhile, though it might feel strange for a moment."

"Let her help." Emma coaxed, fingers in her hair stroking gently. 

"It's all right, Mom," Henry said from behind Mal. "Its just like you always tell me to take my cold medicine." Of course he'd use her own words against her. 

Making a noise of disgust, she agreed. “You three ganging up on me is worse than the symptoms.” It wasn’t, it really wasn’t, because they cared, all of them. It was just so _much,_ and she still struggled to accept their affection. Regina pretended not to see the fond, knowing looks Emma exchanged with her son and Mal. 

"Fine," Regina sighed, shutting her eyes before Mal did whatever she was about to do.  For a moment there was nothing, then the scent of fire rose, magic brushing against Regina’s skin as if she stood near a flame. Soft lips against her forehead were at once burning hot and cooling then a pulse of magic, as if she’d  just stepped from her house into the searing hot midday sun. 

It was over as soon as it started, the brightness behind her eyes faded, leaving only a lingering warmth in her veins, similar to what she felt when Emma was near her but much more focused. Mal’s magic lingered in her, protective and golden.   When she opened her eyes, a tiny curl of smoke drifted from Mal’s lips, the smell of fire still hanging in the air. Regina blinked. The pounding in her head evaporated. 

Regina sat up, unable to stop the sigh of relief. 

“Better?” the question was rhetorical, but Regina glanced at Henry and understood. 

“Much,” she smiled at Mal, straightening her clothes. “Thank you.” 

Maleficent merely inclined her head and stood. “I'm spending the night with Lily in the woods, we'll be back in the morning," she promised. "We should talk about the binding spell. I found the siren's scales along the coast. You and Emma will be ready tomorrow," Mal said. Standing, she held her hand out to Regina who took it, Mal’s palm soft and overly-warm beneath her own. The room was steady when she stood, her stomach happy for once and Regina almost sighed in relief.  

She blamed the sheer novelty of feeling completely like herself again for why it took her a few moments for Mal’s words to sink  in. 

"Siren's scales?" Those must have taken hours of scouring the beach to find. "I thought it was a simple joining spell?" she asked, brows pulling down. Behind her, Emma yawned, stretching and levered herself up. 

“We need what now?” she asked,  still obviously half asleep, running her hand through her hair which only served to make it more of a mess.

"It's a binding spell, dear, not joining." Mal said as if that should have been obvious. “Scales will serve to focus the transfer, although I suppose it’s not strictly necessary, we could do this ourselves, but the spell takes a great deal less effort." Smiling softly, she reached out, brushing a finger across Regina’s cheek. "Sharing magic that intimately is intense, but the two of you are ready for it." Her voice was so soft.

"Ready?" Regina just stared, her mind refusing to grasp what Mal was saying. 

"Your connection now will ease your symptoms, now, and last, so that if this should happen again..." Mal paused, smirking down at them both. "Carrying this child, and any other the two of you might manage to bring into existence, will be easier. You'll be connected for the rest of your lives. This isn’t like the dragon fire - although it will be intense initially - it will never completely fade unless you make an effort to break the bond. Your magic is incredible compatible, or you wouldn't be in this charming situation,” her blue eyes sparkled with humor before she grew serious again. “I haven't known two humans quite like the pair of you." Mal took both of their hands and brought them together within hers. "It's quite remarkable really." She sounded almost awed and Regina just stood there stunned. Mal was sharp and sarcastic and grudging, she was not _awed._

It was too much then, Regina’s chest tightened,  like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Why hadn’t she realized Mal meant a permanent binding spell? 

“Regina? You okay?” Emma, gentle and worried, her eyes so green in the warm light of the room. Emma, who reached out to her, concern pulling the corners of her mouth down.  Emma, whom she loved and wanted with a ferocity that terrified her because, because she knew what happened when she loved like that. Knew that her mother might have been wrong that love was a weakness, but it was dangerous all the same. 

Especially her love. 

“I’m fine,” she forced a smile, nodded at Mal. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk.” 

Pushing everything else aside she hugged Henry, sending him off to bed with a promise not to stay up too late reading by flashlight. 

She didn’t see the look Mal and Emma exchanged as she walked upstairs. 

* * *

 

Regina went through the motions of getting ready for bed on autopilot, washing her face without actually feeling the water against her skin, brushing her teeth and slipping into silk pajamas until there was nothing left to do and she drifted to a stop, the inertia carrying her forward bleeding away.  She didn’t so much get into bed as sink into it, seeing but not quite processing the empty side that seemed to stretch too far in front of her without Emma  now.  She’d gotten used to Emma being with her, gotten used to ‘their’ not ‘her,’ the change in possessive case so much greater than a shift in language, it had changed how she looked at the world. Imagining not being able to turn her head and see Emma beside her was like - was like those days knowing Henry wasn’t sleeping down the hall anymore. It _hurt,_ and Regina had never responded to pain well.

What if the spell was a step too far? A binding spell…Cora’s  voice and magic restraints and being too far off the ground and a wedding dress with a corset so tight she couldn’t breathe; vines around Henry and ‘ _you’re grounded_ ’ and ‘ _I don’t know how to love very well_.’ Was this the right choice?  Emma didn't need to give up so much. The dragon fire had been one thing, the situation had been desperate, and that spell didn't have long lasting effects, nor restrictions. Dragons were independent, they left or returned to their mates when they wished. That connection was fluid, without demands. It served a purpose, but the mark was like a scar, something of the past, proof that something  had healed and was stronger for it. This binding would live with them: a melding of their magic,  part of them until one of them broke it - probably with painful consequences, and wasn’t that just the  perfect metaphor for a relationship? 

Lost in her thoughts, Regina was hardly aware of Emma moving around the bedroom until she returned from the bathroom in a worn t-shirt and boxers, sliding under the covers, mattress dipping until she was there, warm and solid and close, but not touching.  With a wave of her hand, Emma dimmed the small magic spheres they’d been using for lights until there was only enough light to see the outline of her, pale against the darkness. 

“Hey,” soft and careful. Regina swallowed. 

“Hey.” 

"Why so quiet?" Emma's fingers reached out, just brushing her knuckles in the softest touch, but she didn’t move closer.  

"Maybe we shouldn’t cast the spell." 

Silence, her heartbeat too loud in her ears, but Emma’s voice when she spoke was gentle, light. “Planning on calling in sick to get out of more meetings? " Another touch at the back of her hand, fingertips tracing her knuckles. "If you want to play hooky, you don't need to actually be sick, that kind of ruins the fun." 

Now it was Regina’s turn to be silent, reaching passed the tightness of her throat to try and find the right words. 

“Emma,” her hand curled away from Emma’s touch and her skin felt cold in its absence.  “Emma, this is - more involved than dragon fire. This is a binding spell. It’s permanent.” 

The silence that followed was fragile.

“I don’t understand.” ‘ _but I want to_ ’ went unsaid.  Regina heard it anyway and a part of her wanted to explain, wanted to finally give voice to these fears, but words have power, and giving voice to them would make them real. 

“Regina? I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But what if you wanted to?” She cursed the way her voice shook, swallowed and tried again. “When Mal said a spell I thought - I thought she meant something temporary, like she did this evening with my headache, but what she’s talking about will bind our magic together. Permanently. Unless we break the bond.”

“Are you, you’re saying you don’t want that?” In the darkness Emma’s voice was small and hesitant and Regina didn’t think, she just reacted, reaching out and wrapping  her hands around the fingers still waiting for her touch, gripping fiercely. 

“ _No,_ no, that’s not-” a slow breath. “I do want it.  What Mal is talking about, it’s not - it’s not even _possible_ for most people, even magic users. It’s-” Mal’s eyes and voice resonating in her memory from that evening, “Remarkable.” 

“But,” Emma pressed when Regina trailed off. She hadn’t pulled away though. 

“But,” how was she supposed  to explain this to Emma when she didn’t even entirely understand it herself. “It means that our magic, that _we_ would always be linked.” 

“What like a Vulcan mind meld?” 

The strangled noise that escaped her throat was supposed to be a laugh but Regina bit it back. She was in love with an idiot. 

“No, nothing so Star Trek. Definitely no mind reading. But there would be an awareness.  We’d be more powerful too. Things like pain or exhaustion can be shared.” 

“What about pleasure?”

An _immature_ idiot. 

“Yes, Emma,” Regina sighed, but her lips pulled up into a smile and she squeezed the fingers clasped in her own. “The sex would be amazing.” 

“Okay then, what’s the problem? I am really not seeing the downside here.” And Emma was teasing but she wasn’t. Regina could feel it in the strength of her grip, in the way she inched just a little bit closer, as if she wanted to hold Regina but sensed her need for space. 

How did she explain what holding on to the ones she loved had done to her? What she had done in the name of that love? Regina had held on to Daniel and destroyed countless lives. She’d held on to Henry and nearly destroyed her own.  She thought of Emma’s anger at her own parents, at how she ran when things became too much, how even now she struggled with the burden of being the Savior. 

“Regina?”

A slow inhale before she spilled all the cracked and broken pieces of herself. “I don’t always love very well, Emma. I hold too tightly and I’m selfish, what if - “ 

“Stop.” 

She stopped, heartbeat loud in the silence because the word was sharp, almost angry. 

Emma shifted and for the space of three, four, five utterly terrifying heartbeats, Regina thought she was going to get up and leave. Instead she rolled onto her back and opened her arms. “Let me hold you, please?” Emma asked, all the sharpness gone from her voice now and Regina went, letting her body fit against Emma’s side, those slim strong arms around her shoulders. Fingers stroked up and down her spine and she could feel the expansion and contraction of Emma’s ribs as she breathed. 

“Six homes,” Emma spoke after a moment. “Seven, I guess if you count the castle where I was born as a home. That’s how many times someone sent me away.” 

Regina stiffened as if struck, but Emma’s arms tightened carefully. 

“Emma--”

“No, don’t apologize okay? This isn’t about you. Well, not this part. I know our history, Regina. You didn’t put me in a tree or lie to my parents about how much space there was. You didn’t send me back when you got pregnant with your own kid. You weren’t there in those foster homes.”

“But--”

A kiss pressed to the top of her  head. “No buts, just, please let me get this out.” So Regina bit her lip and stayed quiet. 

For a while Emma was silent too, only the sound of her breathing  and her heartbeat beneath Regina’s ear in the  quiet. 

“The first home, well second. They sent me away because they wanted a ‘real’ kid - _their_ kid. The couple of homes after that, no one wants a kid who cries a lot and wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. One of them really didn’t appreciate little girls who fought back.” She bit the words out and Regina tensed again, aching with realization and understanding, but Emma sighed and continued the gentle motion of her hands on Regina’s  spine and she stayed quiet, because Emma asked. “After that, I already had a pretty good rep,  started stealing, and fighting. Hanging with a bad crowd. The kind of homes that take kids like that are the ones who think they can ‘straighten you out.’” Emma snorted bitterly.

Regina tightened the arm around Emma’s waist. 

“Then I met Lily,” Regina heard the pain and longing so clearly. “By that time I was so angry. I hurt her as much as she hurt me.  And then there was Ingrid.” They both shuddered at the name. 

“By the time Neal came along, I was a mess. Looking back...I can’t regret him because we have Henry, but I was barely seventeen and he was just the last in a string of bad choices.  I was so damn starved for someone to give a damn and he did. Right up until the moment he let me go to fucking prison for my _destiny,”_ she spit the word, body going rigid. Regina felt Emma take a deep breath and carefully let it out, slowly relaxing again. She was quiet for a while, but when she spoke again, Regina felt something splinter and shatter inside her chest. 

“My whole life, no one ever wanted me enough to keep me.  Until Henry.  And you.” 

Regina could only lie there, stunned. Henry, she understood, but her? But Emma was already speaking again. 

“Henry wanted me, fought for me. And I know - he went about it wrong, and I let him. And I will always be sorry for how that hurt you.” Another gentle kiss to the top of her head. Regina wanted to say it was okay but it wasn’t, in the same way Emma growing up in this world wasn’t okay. They both made choices and they’d both hurt each other, and they both lived with it because they understood, and forgave. “But he kept me here and so did you.” Emma actually chuckled then, soft and low in her chest. 

“You know if you’d have just been boring and nice I would have packed up town and left the next day. But you had to go and be a pain in the ass,” and Regina could _hear_ the smile in Emma’s voice. Idiot. Except she smiled too, just a little.  Emma’s arms had looked magnificent in that tank top when she took that chainsaw  to Regina's apple tree.  “You pissed me off and challenged me and that made me stay. And then you pulled us back from that other realm. And you brought us back from New York.”

“I let you go, though, to New York,” Regina whispered. 

“Yeah, and you were there with us, the whole time. I only realized it once I came back but that whole year,  every time Henry or I almost set three places at the dinner table. Every time I ordered a salad instead of fries, all the memories of his childhood, everything - that was _you._ Even when we didn’t remember, even when you were worlds away. You never let go.” 

“Emma,” her voice cracked because, because it was all true but she’d never thought

“You kept me Regina. I know it was about Henry too, but you,” she faltered, sucking in a shaky breath and letting  it out, ragged and broken. “Your love is so amazing. Henry and me and our baby, Mal and Lily, we’re so lucky to be loved by you.”

A soft touch at her chin tilted  Regina’s face up until she could see Emma. In the dim light her eyes were colorless,  but Regina could see the shine of tears and she had to blink against the sudden sting in her own. “I _want_ this,” Emma said, low and harsh and breaking under the weight of emotion Regina could feel in the tension of the body beneath hers, in the way Emma’s hand trembled beneath her chin. “I’m already yours, Regina. No spell can change that. This is home and I want you, and our family and--” 

She didn’t get to finish because Regina surged up and kissed her, hard and bright then softer, softer until she was pressing tiny kisses to Emma’s mouth,  her cheeks, the tip of her nose, until their foreheads were  pressed together, both of them breathing a little too hard. 

“I’m keeping you, Emma Swan. Always. I’m keeping you,” Regina promised and took Emma’s shuddering breath into herself when she kissed her again and again. 

When she finally put her head down to sleep, the slow steady beat of Emma’s heart beneath her ear was the last sound she heard. 

* * *

 

The sun was already well over the horizon, streaming through the curtains when they both woke the next morning.  Her head still clear and her stomach quiet for the moment. Regina reluctantly gave up the warmth of Emma’s body and slipped from bed.  She tucked the covers back up around Emma’s chin but it was too late, green eyes, unfocused and squinting in the morning light, opened and found her. 

“Go back to sleep, I’m just going to make breakfast.” 

The inhuman grunt she got in reply was terribly endearing, but she wasn’t surprised when Emma shook her head and rolled out of bed to join her downstairs a few moments later. 

Regina made it through a mug of tea and a most of a bowl of oatmeal with apples before her stomach apparently woke up enough to be upset. With a sigh, she pushed the bowl away, curling her hands around the still-hot ceramic, contenting herself with watching Emma wolf down toast with her oatmeal. 

“Stomach acting up?”

Regina just nodded. “When does this usually end?” 

Emma gave her a sympathetic look but shrugged. “Its different for everyone. For me? About month four.” 

"I read everything about infants before I adopted Henry," Regina said softly, breathing in the steam from her tea.  "I had a stack of books in the trunk of the car when I picked him up. I thought I was ready. I've never read a book about being pregnant. I don't even own one."

Emma smiled, teasing and fond, and shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”

Regina sniffed, but smiled too. “Some of us like to be prepared, Miss Swan.” 

Emma merely licked her spoon, an action that she could tell annoyed Regina but dark eyes couldn’t seem to leave her lips. Victory.  "The library survived the storm. We can go check out the whole section if you want, but then Belle would know. The internet might be a better idea."

Regina’s gaze unfocused, lost in thought. She hadn’t truly considered the logistics involved in hiding the pregnancy. Unconsciously, her hand strayed to rest on her stomach. In front of her, Emma pushed her oatmeal away and stood, coming around the counter to stand behind Regina, carefully wrapping her arms around her and pressing her palms over Regina’s where it rested over the baby.  Regina softened, leaning back in Emma’s hold, smiling at the lips pressed against her shoulder. 

"I think we could trust Belle. She's become very close to Henry and he's an excellent judge of character."

Emma made a noise of agreement. "She'll probably recommend twenty books, and you'll read them all and ask for twenty more,” she said, a smile in her voice. Regina rolled her eyes but she couldn’t disagree. "Wait,” Emma said, mocking horror creeping into her tone. “You're going to give me homework, aren't you? I did this, once, you know I did,” she whined playfully. 

“Emma,” a warning, but Regina couldn’t help the smile. Her idiot. 

Sure enough Emma sighed as if being asked to do the most onerous task. “Fiiine. I will read stuff, even though I still think the Cliffs’ Notes version is just fine.”  

Regina didn’t even dignify that with a response and Emma chuckled.  Shifting, Emma slipped her hand beneath Regina’s splaying gently across her belly and Regina felt Emma’s magic rise, enveloping her and reaching out. Wrapping her fingers around Emma’s wrist she held tight, losing herself in the feel of Emma around her, in her.   

“Whatever happens,” Emma said, lips brushing her jaw. “We’ll be okay. All of us.”

* * *

 

The knock on the front door startled them both and they broke apart. Henry had a key. Mal didn't knock. She had Regina's spare key, which she rarely used because doors weren't important to someone who could teleport. Lily would be with Mal or Henry. 

Emma pressed a kiss to Regina’s temple. "I’ll get it," she sighed. If it was someone else complaining about how long it took to fix the electricity…

It wasn’t anyone complaining about the electricity. 

"Apologies for disturbing you," Mulan said. She stood perfectly straight on the steps in the morning sun. While Emma didn’t really care if her deputies dressed in uniform, Mulan seemed to prefer it and Emma had to admit the tan and dark brown looked good on her. Her gun wasn’t a sword but Mulan had adapted quickly to modern firearms, only making a dry comment about ease of aiming. Emma hadn’t asked.  Although Emma didn’t consider them ‘friends’ yet, she liked Mulan and trusted her. She had gotten pretty good at reading the woman. She looked serious, but not overly alarmed, so whatever it was it wasn’t a social call but it wasn’t an emergency. 

"Coffee?" Emma asked, waving Mulan in. 

"No, thank you," Mulan answered, following Emma inside. Regina's shoulders relaxed, just a little as the two entered the kitchn.  Mulan wasn't a threat. "The dawn patrol discovered a body in the harbour that has not yet been identified."

Emma froze almost mid step and Regina stared. 

"A body?" 

"He was found this morning just after six. Male, older, perhaps with gray hair."

"Perhaps?" Regina pressed. 

"The body was severely damaged, most likely by a boat propeller, though none of the fishing boats report anything out of the ordinary. It's been taken to the hospital, Deputy Lucas has gone to Dr. Whale's home so that he can assist us in the identification." 

Emma, who had edged in front of Regina while Mulan talked, suddenly seemed to realize what she’d done and flushed slightly. Grabbing her coffee cup, she downed the last couple of swallows and nodded at Mulan.  "Okay, let's--"

"I'm coming with you," Regina said, setting her own mug in the sink. 

"Regina--"

"Of course, Mayor," Mulan said carefully neutral. 

Unseen by Regina, Emma glared. Mulan gave her a look that said very clearly she knew exactly who was the boss in that room and it wasn’t the Sheriff. Emma couldn’t even get mad. It was totally true. 

"Just let me leave a note for Henry and Mal," Regina said, grabbing a pad of sticky notes from a drawer and scrawling a quick note, her penmanship still somehow ridiculously neat.  

"Did you drive here?" Emma asked, grabbing her jacket and badge and reaching for her car keys in the bowl beneath the shelf, just in case. Behind her, Regina waved her hands and was suddenly dressed in one of her numerous suits, a slim black trench coat over it, with low booted heels. Emma had to work very hard not to stare.  Mulan caught her doing it anyway, shaking her head at how useless her boss was. 

"I took the patrol car."

Emma sighed. Nothing like spending the morning in the back of a patrol car. 

* * *

 

Fairies in their blue uniforms filled the hospital. Emma couldn't remember so many nuns working as nurses before the curse broke, but maybe it made sense now. The hospital needed repairs and fairies were workaholics. It was a little strange though. No one else really seemed to be working. 

"Sheriff, thank goodness you're here," Blue said, meeting them in the corridor. She wrung her hands and focused on Emma, giving Regina only a curt nod.  "I've never seen anything like it. The poor man's been mangled."

Emma had seen a lot of weird crap since she came to Storybrooke but this sounded less fairy tale and more...Criminal Minds.  The look of distaste on Mulan’s face echoed what Emma was thinking. 

"Mangled?" Emma asked, her hand resting on the grip of her gun. "By what?"

"We were hoping Dr. Whale could help us find out," Blue said, her eyes moving between Mulan and Emma. The way she ignored Regina made Emma set her jaw. Emma was tempted to call her on it, but held her tongue. The general level of chaos and tension around them said this wasn’t the time. “Ruby's not back yet," she continued. "What do you think is keeping her?"

"We have the radios functioning, and the station has power, but most of the phones in town ran out of batteries days ago," Mulan reported. She took a step back and tapped her radio. "Deputy Fa to Deputy Lucas, come in Lucas."

"I'm here, I mean, Lucas here," Ruby's voice replied over the radio. "Dr. Whale hasn't answered his door. Belle's just arrived with the keys. Mulan, his car's out front but there's no answer inside."

"Keep us updated, Fa out." 

Emma had to smile because Mulan had discovered the radios had protocols and stuck to them to the letter. Everyone else just kind of went with it, but Mulan seemed to enjoy it. "Should we take a look?" 

"I just want you to prepare yourselves," Blue warned, looking down before she met Emma's eyes. "It's not pleasant." 

"Corpses rarely are," Regina said, her words heavy with too much knowledge. It was easy to forget she’d probably seen more death than anyone else here. Logic didn’t stop Emma from wishing they were alone so she could ask if Regina would be okay with a dead, potentially nasty body, though. Her stomach hadn't been bad this morning so maybe she would be fine, and it wasn’t as though Regina would admit it in front of Blue even if she was bothered, but Emma couldn’t help it. She worried. 

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Regina's fingers nudged her own, and Emma realised - too late - that Mulan had seen the whole silent exchange.  She flushed but Mulan just turned and followed Blue, giving them the courtesy of pretending she hadn’t seen anything. Better her than Blue, anyway.  Regina’s smile was gentle before she composed her features into the disinterested professional mask of the Mayor.  Her fingers touched Emma’s one more time, though, and Emma knew her worrying had been noted, and appreciated. 

They followed Blue down the corridor to the tiny morgue of Storybrooke hospital. The tiny room was all steel and tile, easily cleaned, and the body lay in the middle of it, beneath a sheet on the table. 

The smell wasn't so bad, kind of metallic, not yet starting to rot, and mostly covered with brine. Thank goodness for that. 

"Are we sure that scavengers didn't get him?" Emma asked, wishing she had more experience with this than Law and Order reruns. 

"Yes," Blue said, and her simple response filled the room, ominous and heavy. "Something evil did this." 

She pulled back the sheet, revealing what was left of a torso  and Emma had to admit the assessment might have been appropriate. Whatever had gotten to George, it wasn’t ocean scavengers, and it was definitely horrible.   Even expecting it, Emma’s gorge rose and she heard Mulan make a noise of disgust, quickly silenced. Regina said nothing but she didn’t need to. Emma sensed the tension coiling in her. 

The damage was so extensive that it actually took Emma’s brain a few seconds to make sense of what she saw, putting back the pieces of the badly scattered flesh puzzle. She almost wished she hadn’t. 

Something thick and sharp had removed the head, leaving the neck a gaping mass of now-bloodless flesh and bright, splintered bone. Beneath that the ribs were severed, split open, again by something thick and sharp, like a sword or talons. A third mark exposed the belly and dark remnants of organs, and the fourth trailed intestines, as if, as if a huge set of claws had ripped across him, shredding him with one blow.

The hair remaining on his arms, and what was left of his chest was grey, which narrowed his identity down. His trousers were pleated, well tailored, and Emma recognised expensive cloth. She lived with Regina, after all. His shoes - well shoe, one was missing -  were leather, fashionable, well kept. Even after being in the ocean, the polish held up. 

"It's Albert Spencer," Regina said, her voice level and certain. "King George."

"How do you know?" Mulan asked, following Regina's eyes. 

"He has the crest on his cufflinks custom made," Regina explained, indicating the remaining bit of metal still on one bloodstained cuff. "It's his coat of arms from the Enchanted Forest. No one else would have that." 

Emma looked over at Regina.  She wasn't too pale, didn't look green and she hadn't set her jaw in that most determined fashion which meant that she was really hiding how awful she felt. Of the four women in the room, Regina looked far and away the most composed and Emma mentally kicked herself. _Keep it together Swan,_ she chastised herself, forcing her attention back to Blue and the body of Albert Spencer.  She could freak out and pout a little until Regina let her cuddle on the couch later. Now she had a damned job to do. 

“Well, that...is a help. Thank you,” Blue ground out tersely, taking the sheet and moving it back over Spencer’s remains all without actually looking at Regina. Instead she hesitated just for a moment before letting the sheet fall, and when  Spencer was covered Blue continued to stare at the misshapen lump for a moment. 

 _What the hell was she doing?_ Emma wondered. _Praying? Did the fairies still take their cursed positions so seriously?_  

Before she could ask, however, Mulan's radio crackled, interrupting Emma’s thoughts. "Mulan? Are you there?" Ruby's worry cut through the static, protocol forgotten. 

"I'm here," Mulan replied, calm and controlled. Hearing the obvious distress in the other woman’s voice she didn't chastise Ruby, just let her talk. "What's wrong?"

"Whale's dead," Ruby answered, her voice cracking. "He was, he's, well he's in the yard behind his house, in a tree."

Blue gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Emma and Regina shared a look and something in the pit of Emma's stomach twisted, hard and cold.  

"The body is in a tree?" Mulan asked, her expression still composed. Only the slight whitening of her knuckles where her fingers wrapped around the radio suggested she was unsettled too. 

"It's been placed there, like something was returning later for their kill," Ruby said, and her tone dropped, brushing against the wolf beneath. "It's pretty torn up. It looks like he came out back before he was attacked. Maybe it lured him out somehow or--"

Mulan looked to Emma before she gave her orders. "Stay with the body. I'll send the team, and we’ll be there shortly." 

The radio hissed. "We have a team for this?" Ruby asked, her voice still too high and shaky. Emma made a note to check on her, maybe send her home. Ruby was still new at being a deputy and for all the magic and craziness of Storybrooke, people rarely _stayed_ dead. 

"Doc and a few of the dwarves," Mulan said. She looked to Regina to explain. "They volunteered, and they're respectful, hardworking."  

Regina nodded, approval obvious. With the table and Mulan safely between them and Blue, Emma reached for her fingers, stroking them tentatively with her own. Regina squeezed her hand tight. Her skin was warm but not feverish and dry, suggesting she was still fine, which Emma was deeply thankful for, even as she silently admitted that of the two of them, she was probably more likely to be sick than Regina right now. 

“I can transport us all by magic, if you wish,” Regina offered. Emma wanted to object but bit her lip. In front of Blue, Regina would never admit any kind of weakness but she also wouldn’t take unnecessary risks. The fingers holding Emma’s squeezed gently and Emma caught the slightest quirk of Regina’s lips. She was so busted. 

Mulan nodded easily but Blue jerked back as if slapped before getting herself under control. “No. I’ll transport myself. Thank you.” The last was said almost between gritted teeth and Emma only barely stopped herself from saying something pointed. 

She could feel Regina’s amusement as familiar purple magic surrounded the three of them. 

* * *

 

They'd appeared just outside Whale's house, and started inside. The door was open and Ruby's patrol car sat waiting on the street. 

"No one spoke to Whale this morning?" Emma asked, keeping her dread in check. When the the harpies and beetles had attacked the town, inanimate things, animals. This - whatever it was - was attacking people. Living ones. Rotten ones so far, but that didn't mean they deserved to die. 

"I'll construct a timeline of his movements," Mulan said. "Perhaps they were near each other when this happened?"

"And Whale ended up hanging in a tree and George in the harbour?" Emma asked, unwilling to imagine something that would do that kind of damage. 

Blue appeared a moment later in a shower of glittering dust the same colour as her name. It was certainly showier than Regina's magic. "If poor Dr. Whale's body is in a tree, maybe we're looking for something that flies?" Blue suggested, almost cautiously. "Most demons, like that Chernobog, have four claws and can fly, and dragons, of course."

"Dragons aren't demons," Regina reminded her sharply. 

"Of course not, I just meant they have similar claws," Blue corrected herself. "King George-"

"The former king George," Regina interrupted. Emma hadn't seen her face this cold for long time. 

"Former king George," Blue repeated, "Didn't have any family left unless we count David-"

"Which we won't, as he tried to kill him and Snow several times," Regina shot back, her words clipped and short. "He can be cremated and his ashes interred at the town cemetery. His land has a history of funeral pyres, we wouldn't want to take that from him. Dr. Whale, I believe, also has no next of kin. The town will also arrange for his cremation and take care of both. After the Sheriff's department releases the remains, of course." 

"Right," Emma agreed with a quick nod. "Once we get Whale back to the morgue we can compare the wounds, make sure this is the same beast." Hopefully, it was, because she didn't want two things with huge and terrible claws roaming the town. 

She glanced at Regina and saw the same knowledge in dark eyes. They weren’t that lucky.

* * *

 

Ruby met them in the living room of Whale's sparsely furnished house. His taste was acceptable, like he'd gotten everything out of the same nice catalogue, but it had no personality.  It matched because it was designed to match. Somehow that didn't surprise Emma. He always struck her as shallow and vain - he’d wanted it to look good, but hadn't put much thought into how. What had Snow seen in him during their brief few dates? 

"Doc and his crew just got here a few minutes ago,” Ruby said as soon as they entered the house.  Her grim expression and pale face suggested the body would be more unpleasant than that of former king George. Great. “They were about to take the body down, but I thought you'd want to see it in place. It would probably be easier for everyone if one of you could bring it, him, down with magic," Ruby added. 

"It'll be no problem to bring down," Blue said, and Emma glanced at Regina. People didn't usually volunteer to do things that Regina could do (probably do better) in front of her. 

Regina shook her head, almost imperceptibly. Emma got the message. Not worth it. 

"That would be helpful, thanks," Emma replied to Blue, stretching her mouth into something she hoped resembled a grateful smile. She didn’t risk looking at Regina again to see if she’d failed. 

Following Mulan into the backyard they were all hit with the smell, thick and metallic, almost cloying. Even from several yards away, the body stank of blood, and something more putrid that she didn't want to think about. She swallowed hard, Ruby wrinkled her nose and turned positively green and Regina's expression became stone, immobile and cold. 

Blue held back, covering her mouth in shock and disgust and she blinked, as if fighting tears. Emma watched and something in the back of her mind wondered if Whale and Blue had really been that close. 

The body was indeed worse than George. What was left of it wore Whale's blue shirt that Emma remembered from the day before and what remained of it clung in tatters to his skin. His torso had also been torn open, and the smell must have come from his shredded bowels. Unlike George, Whale's head was still attached, but barely. It hung down on the exposed bone of his neck and a few remaining strips of muscle. His face had been so coated in blood and other fluids that it was barely recognisable as him, but when she made herself look, it was. 

The wounds were similar, deep, and vicious. She knew next to nothing about demons and what their claws were like. Emma had no idea where to even start investigating demonic murder in a town full of fairy tale characters that didn't even have an coroner. 

Sneezy snapped a few more pictures and nodded to Doc. "Done."

Doc looked up from the paper in his hand before he directed Sneezy. 

Emma took a step closer and recognised it as a crime scene checklist she'd written for her deputies, because she wasn’t really a Sheriff but no one else knew what they were doing at all. She'd constructed it off the internet and crime shows on Netflix and outdated procedural manuals left over from the casting of the first curse - because actual Law Enforcement seminars required credentials, and there had never been time, or reason, to sit with Regina and Snow and determine the limits of the spell still bounding Storybrooke. It was possible that Emma would indeed be recognised as a legitimate officer of the law. It was equally possible that her inquiries would raise all kinds of red flags with the State government that Storybrooke couldn’t afford. Besides, no one had really ever _died_ in this town in a way that actually needed to be investigated.  So for - despite the high body count - people died in Storybrooke because they were magical villains, or trying to hurt Henry and there was no mystery about how they died. 

This was… brutal and real in a way not even Cora’s death or Neal’s death had been. Emma’s attempts to provide some updated structure to the Storybrooke Police department had been meant to handle stolen pumpkins and fairytale property disputes and drunks bumbling into the wrong property and sleeping it off in the roses. Murder hadn't even been on her radar, especially not murder by some kind of beast or someone wielding magic in this way. 

Emma added ‘ _Actual Police Training’_ to her mental list of ‘Things That Would Get Done After This Crisis Is Over And Before The Next One’ so basically...never. 

Once Doc gave the okay, Blue brought the body down from the tree. The wound pattern was similar, Emma didn't want to call it the same, but four huge claws had ripped through his body, opening his organs, splitting his neck. One powerful blow and he was dead. His eyes stared at her through dried blood, milky beneath. One of the dwarves made a move to cover the face but Emma shook her head. They needed to see everything for now. Besides, the real problem was the stench, not the sight. The reek of blood and the stench of open intestines made it hard to breath and Emma seriously regretted breakfast this morning.  Regina's face had become so pale that her skin could have been marble but she didn’t waver. Torn between wanting to take her home, now, and knowing that the town needed them both, Emma turned away to focus on the body.  She'd never let Emma drag her away. 

"It's the same creature, isn't it?" Emma asked, crouching as low as she dared and covering her nose. It didn’t do any good. 

"It's likely," Regina said. She touched Emma's shoulder, almost in passing, but it was enough to say that she was okay. Her fingers were cool at least, so whatever Mal had done last night was still protecting her from the worst of it. She waved her hand over the body and tiny flashes of light traced the wounds, as if reading them. The light coalesced into a purple ball then headed quickly towards the hospital to compare the wound patterns. 

"Ever see anything like this in the other world?"

Regina nodded once, carefully and Emma’s arm ached to reach out and touch her.  A glance at Blue though, stilled Emma’s motion. The fairy looked quickly away but something about her manner had been setting off Emma’s instincts all day.  Was she staring at them?  Emma’s gut wouldn't settle and it had nothing to do with the corpse. 

Then again she’d been on edge long before Blue. Silently kicking herself, Emma tried to focus on the body. Maybe once they performed the bonding spell she would be less anxious.

Regina's ball of purple light returned, hovered over Whale for a moment, then sank into the wounds, marking them with purple light. 

"Same creature?" Emma asked.

"Yes, but I don't know what it is." Regina frowned and brushed her hands against her legs. "That spell should have given us an idea." 

"Perhaps you'll need a more powerful spell," Blue offered, her voice just barely not snide as she stood over the body. "I imagine most of your magic isn't concerned with tracking dark creatures."

Emma opened her mouth but a nearly imperceptible shake of Regina’s head and she stopped. She wouldn't pick a fight. 

"If you're done here, we're ready to move the body," Doc said, indicating a stretcher they must have brought from the hospital. 

"Yeah, we're good." Emma headed for the tree, studying the heavy forked branch where Whale's legs had been hung. "What kind of thing hangs a body from a tree?"

"It's a fairly common behaviour in some carnivores, keeping the kill away from other predators," Regina answered, standing beside Emma. 

Emma forced herself not to smirk. "Thanks, Animal Planet." Trying to imagine how big something would have to be to move a body that high, she discounted the harpies.  Maybe in numbers they could have done that, but if there had been a swarm, his body would have been covered in smaller, shallower wounds. "So what from the other world is a carnivore that would kill something and come back later?"

Regina turned her head without speaking and she met Emma's eyes. They knew two large carnivores that had enough strength to lift a body into a tree, and carry one out over the ocean. Emma hadn't been that close to Lily or Maleficent's claws, but she knew without needing to see them they would be huge and sharp. 

"Did George and Whale know each other?" Emma asked, keeping her voice low. "Would they have been together last night? Smoking cigars?"

Regina’s lips curled in an expression of disgust. Emma couldn’t blame her. The two men on their own were bad enough. Imagining them as colleagues was unpleasant to say the least. "They know - _knew_ each other, but they weren't friends. Perhaps we should ask your mother, I hear she knows Whale fairly well." 

Emma winced. "Not a conversation I wanted to have." 

Regina’s eyes twinkled before she sobered, turning back to study the tree and letting Emma think.

"Other than me wanting to smack them both in the town meeting yesterday, I can't think of any reason they'd both be victims of whatever this is." 

Regina touched her shoulder and they stared up at the blood staining the bark. Her touch reminded Emma that she wasn't to blame, that she couldn't have stopped this. "I doubt your annoyance did this." 

"Do you have any idea what did?" 

Regina shook her head, taking a step closer, her hand slipping into Emma's. "Nothing good." 

It wasn’t like Emma expected anything differently but the urge to to bang her head against the nearest tree was still pretty strong. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily brings Regina lunch and they get a chance to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a silly weekend, so a shorter chapter to tie you over so I can make sure the binding spell's right. (all the magical sex). 
> 
> Huge thanks again to Race, because she found such lovely connections between these two.

When Lily finally shifted back into her human form, it was late morning, the sun high enough in the sky to warm her human skin.  Everything felt smaller and quieter again, even her. She  felt like she fit in in her  own skin once more. With a sigh Lily rolled her shoulders, any possible guilt she might have felt at her behavior yesterday banished by the smile Mal wore when she turned to find her mom waiting for her. Mal didn’t ask her if she felt better or how she was doing, just stepped forward and hugged her briefly and Lily let herself sink into that embrace. After so long without true physical affection she was starved for it, soaking it up like a sponge even as it scared her to reach out. Mal seemed to understand because she didn’t hold long, just pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stepped back. 

“There’s been a disturbance in the town, we should get back.” 

“What?”

Mal shook her head. “We’re too far away to tell for certain, even for me. If you’re ready, I’ll take us back.” 

Wondering if there would ever be a moment in this town where things weren’t almost out of control, Lily nodded and a breath later, her mom’s magic surrounded her and the forest vanished. 

* * *

 

It turned out ‘the disturbance’ was ‘two people were brutally murdered’. Lily could sense the tension on the air as soon as they materialized in the middle of town. It raised the fine hairs at the back of her neck, the dragon shifting inside her, pushing closer to the surface.  Helped by a gentle hand on her shoulder, she held it down, Mal’s soft look of pride warming her. 

“I should go find Swan, why don’t you go see if you can find Regina and make sure she’s not overtaxing herself. The spell I cast on her yesterday won't last much longer.” 

Lily looked at her mom. “Are you trying to keep me out of something?” 

But Mal just shook her head forcefully. “No, _never,_ I just,” Mal paused for a moment, considering. Something very old and very angry flashed behind bright blue eyes. Something that Lily knew was deadly even though it made her feel safe. “I don’t trust these humans. Not all of them anyway. I don’t trust the anger on the air and I don’t want you to be exposed to those... _Charmings_ if you don’t have to.” There was so much anger, so much anguish in the way Mal said the name Lily understood her mom was afraid, and trying to protect her. Maybe it was ridiculous because she’d lived on her own for years and even if she couldn’t really control the dragon side of her, she had a dirty right hook. But her mom’s eyes pleaded and Lily suddenly got why Regina let Emma fuss even when she didn’t need it. 

“Okay, Mom.” It felt right on her tongue, that word, and Mal’s smile in return was heartbreaking. A warm palm cupped her cheek and then Mal vanished, leaving Lily alone. 

Regina. Her other mother. Lily’s heart fluttered a little at that. With  Mal it was...not easy but getting there. Mal made sense. In a way she’d known Mal all her life. But Regina,  Regina she’d never been able to imagine, Regina who she struggled to understand because she wasn’t there in Lily’s memories but all she had to do was look in the mirror at her thick, slightly curly hair and her dark, dark eyes, or see the way Regina looked at her, so full of love and sadness to know Regina was her other parent. 

Suddenly Lily realized what _else_ Mal was doing and she nearly groaned. Her mother was a meddler. She  hadn’t had much time to talk to Regina and now Mal was basically shoving them together. 

Shaking her head, Lily stared down the street. Her mom had left her on Main Street, just down from the diner. Regina had an office, in City Hall, if Lily could remember where that was. She could stop at the diner and get something, because she didn't feel right turning up empty handed. Especially not when Emma, Henry and her mom were so worried about Regina. Besides it would give her something to do with her  hands. decision made, she headed for the diner, searching her pockets for cash. Would Regina want tea or should she bring her food? Maybe not food, considering how worried Henry had been about his - _their_ , and yeah that was still harder to get used to - mom being sick to her stomach. Granny would know where Regina's office was too, so she wouldn't have to wander through town and look like an idiot.  

Food. Conversation. No big deal, she could totally do this. 

* * *

 

It turned out Mal wasn’t the only meddler. As soon as Lily walked in the door the older woman who ran the place waved her up to the counter. Lily realized then she still didn’t even know her actual name, though apparently ‘Granny’ sufficed. something about her made the dragon in Lily hum in approval. Whatever she was, it wasn’t human but the gimlet stare and the way she moved said she was not a woman to be trifled with. 

“You’re going to see Regina?” Granny asked in that ‘this isn’t really a question’ voice, leaving Lily to nod uncertainly. 

Glancing around as if to make sure no one was really paying attention (they weren’t, the diner was mostly empty) she pulled a bag from behind the counter, opening a cooler behind her and putting a couple bottles of something in it. “Good. Here, she likes this salad and take some of this ginger ale if her stomach is still upset. Tell her no more root beer till she’s feeling better.”

Nonplussed, Lily could only take the paper bag that was handed brusquely to her, giving a slightly awkward thank you in return.  When she tried to pay she was waved away. “You tell Regina to remember to delegate and we’ll call it even,” and then Granny turned back to another customer who had just walked in, summarily dismissing a still very confused Lily who took the bag and made a hasty retreat back to the safety of the street. 

_Wolf,_ she realized as she walked back toward City Hall. The old woman smelled of wolf, just like Ruby. Ruby. Red. A wolf. 

_This fucking town,_ Lily groaned inwardly.  She was going to have have another look at that damn book of Henry’s. 

* * *

 

Bag from the diner in hand, Lily shifted her weight in front of the door labelled _Mayor_. The glass was frosted, but Regina would probably have - 

“Come in,  Lily,” Regina’s voice carried through the glass and wood. 

-seen her through it. 

Trying to tamp down the butterflies the sudden flutter of nerves in her stomach, Lily silently told herself to stop being an idiot and opened the door. 

The room was, well it was exactly like she expected it actually. Shades of black and white, marble and a polished mahogany desk. It was open and bright but not entire welcoming, beautiful, but severe. Lily knew places like this, meant to make others feel cowed and inferior, set them on edge and somehow it struck her then, even though this was just a town hall and the sign said ‘Mayor’ not Queen that the woman in front of her, her mother, was royalty,  and that the title hadn’t been an empty one. 

Not for the first time, Lily wondered if there was something about her dual nature, some part of the dragon, that was keeping her sedated. Because one of her mothers was a dragon and the other was a queen (and dating her ex best friend) and Lily was standing in a gleaming black and white room in worn jeans and a hoodie with salad and ginger ale in a paper bag. 

“Lily?” 

She blinked, focusing on Regina again. Dark eyes were wide and worried and there was that rawness, that  longing on her face. Suddenly the office didn’t seem cold anymore. 

“Lily are you okay?” She could see then how Regina tensed, as if she  wanted to stand. The butterflies settled. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Lily replied instead, placing the bag on the desk and digging out its contents. 

Regina made a soft noise that might have been a laugh but her smile dragged at the edges as she shuffled her papers aside. 

“I’m fine,” she insisted. 

Lily could tell a reflex answer when she heard one. Careful not to let the moisture beading on the glass of the bottles make her hands slip, she put one of the bottles in front of Regina. “Granny said you need to eat,” she explained. “She also said you weren’t allowed any root beer till you felt better.”  Dark brows pulled down into a scowl and Lily bit back a laugh. Her mom pouted just like Henry. The expression slid from her face quickly though, fading into a wince. 

“Here.” Lily nudged the ginger ale closer. “It will help." She touched the cap and frowned. "You have a bottle opener, right?"

Regina took a metal bottle opener from her desk drawer, as if taking the tops from bottles was a common occurrence. She must have had a lot of lunches with Emma, probably this salad and root beer. Dutifully, Regina took a few sips and the line between her brows eased - just a little. “Thank you, how much do I owe you?” 

“For lunch? Nothing, Granny said as long as I reminded you to delegate it was on the house.” Lily shrugged. 

Her mom paused, looking at the salad and the bottles of soda, something soft and uncertain flickering across her face.  

Regina wasn’t used to people caring,  Lily suddenly understood. It made her ache in her small human chest - it made the other part of her rage,  want to curl around Regina and protect her and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, had to struggle to stay still until the anger subsided. Mal  had said it would take time to fully gain control, she was really going to have to work on that soon.

Either unaware of her  turmoil or - more likely - kind enough to pretend otherwise,  Regina just cleared her throat and pulled the salad toward her. “Thank  you,” she said softly, glancing up at Lily and her eyes were so full of emotion and gratitude for a stupid little salad it made Lily want to curl up into a ball. 

“You’re welcome,” she managed,  pulling the other bottle toward her just to have something to do. 

Silence fell while Regina ate but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry I freaked out yesterday,” Lily offered when Regina grimaced and pushed the salad away without finishing it. 

Something very reminiscent of Mal sparkled quickly in Regina’s eyes and she straightened, taking another sip of her drink. 

"Don't be," Regina said dryly. “Frankly, it was the most fun I had all day.” Lily had to laugh at that, a conspiratorial wink passing between both women before Regina softened.  "Genetic memories are complicated, Lily, truly. No one who understands can blame you for how difficult it is to see Snow and David and have to remember what they did to you. And you never need to apologise for defending me." That look was back, the one that was just so _full_ Lily had to glance away, craving it and unsure all at once. 

"Can I apologise for making a mess of the meeting?" She asked, trying to lighten the mood.  

Regina seemed to understand because that spark of dry humor returned. "Not a chance. It wouldn’t be a town meeting unless something dramatic happened anyway. Storybrooke is full of characters, _literally_ , and sometimes it's difficult to explain to them why some things are be a certain way. Many of them are exceptionally... stubborn." 

THe inflection she gave ‘stubborn’ made it very clear what word Regina actually wanted to use. Lily grinned. 

“Sounds like a hell of a job."

"One that is usually more pleasant I will grant you."

"Dead bodies kind of ruin things, huh?"

"Emma's handling it.” Her words were easy and sure and for a second it looked like she was going to say more but instead she just. Stopped. 

“What?” Lily frowned at the expression on Regina’s face. It was one she’d never seen before and couldn’t read. For a moment she just stared into space, as if forgetting Lily was even there. 

“I tried to run her out of town,” Regina said after a moment. She didn’t look at Lily, picked up her ginger ale instead and twisted it around in her hands carefully. “When she ran for Sheriff I was outraged, did everything I could to sabotage her. She drove me absolutely crazy and now…” Regina trailed off, her lips curling upward into a smile that made something inside Lily ache. Emma had been one of the few bright spots in her darkest years, she was happy the lonely girl she’d known finally found the family she’d always wanted.  

“And now?”

Regina’s slow smile lit up the entire room. “We haven’t lost yet.” 

Lily told her then what Emma had been like when she first met her, wounded but still so full of hope. And stubborn. “She’s not really changed much, not on the inside,” she shrugged. Talk of Emma (“she really took a chainsaw to your tree?” “Yes she did” and the wicked almost dirty smile on Regina’s face made Lily decide she knew enough thanks) slipped into talk of Lily’s childhood. Not all of it. Just the better parts, the ones that wouldn’t make Regina look like she wanted to cry.  

And she found, as she talked, it didn’t hurt as much. Telling Regina about her past now was like - was like she was telling someone else’s story.

“Its the dragon,” Regina commented when Lily mentioned it. “You live in the moment. Time moves differently for you.” And that soft, sad smile bloomed on her lips again. “Mal said it was a defense mechanism for long-lived creatures. You might live for hundreds of years, while the other people in your life -” 

Lily’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Regina was saying but a brief motion of her hand stopped whatever protest Lily might have said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything and it’s not really the same. Emma and I are very powerful, or magic means that we - and Henry - will live quite a bit longer than normal humans. Here,” Regina said softly, turning to pull a slim, leather bound book out of her desk drawer. "Before I forget, I wanted to give you this. It’s one of the few remaining copies of the only book about dragons your mother has ever approved of. It's very old, and it should help you learn about your history. I know not everyone likes to read-"

"I don't mind reading," Lily promised. Regina's quick little smile was endearing.

“I thought you might appreciate the illustrations as well, considering you're an artist." 

Lily flushed, and shook her head. "I can draw some, that's not really being an artist."

"Don’t say that, your drawings of Mal are beautiful," and Lily knew Regina actually thought that. This wasn’t some fake platitude, Regina was so earnest, so open, just like Mal. Was this what it was like when there weren't any secrets?  

Why was everyone doing that? Except for Emma, Lily had just met all of them, yet they were all ready, so willing to be her family: her nest, as her mom kept calling it. 

"Thanks," Lily managed. She was grateful, really, but moments like this still became too much so quickly.  For so long, once she realized her birth mother was never coming to find her, she’d tried to avoid being noticed. Being noticed meant she was in trouble, meant she was the freak who needed to go see yet another therapist or social worker. It was easier, safer to fade into the background, be forgotten. And yet here was her mother, looking telling her something she had done was beautiful and somehow managing to make Lily believe it. Maybe only for a moment but she treasured it anyway. 

Lily felt a little guilty when Regina made a face as she sat back, pressing her fingers against her temple. This was easier to deal with, the emotional charge in the air softening.  

"How's your head, really?"

"It's fine.” 

The attempt was so unconvincing it would have been funny if it hadn’t made Lily want to _fix it_ so badly. Holding on to the book in her lap, she tried to focus her dragon instincts. She should be able to pick up Regina's discomfort. If her magic was out of balance, Lily ought to be able to pick up on that. So much of what she saw, smelt and heard was so vivid now that she had to tune so much of it out to focus on the people around her. The world with magic was technicolour after grainy black and white.  Lily had just never known how dull her old senses were. Life was vibrant, glowing, breathing and it was everywhere - energy like sunlight that could be overwhelming if you didn’t filter it out like Mal had started to show her. Slowly, clumsily, Lily pushed everything aside - including her own magic - and concentrated on Regina. It wasn’t easy, her power was incredible, even contained within her. She hummed with life, with magic, and that was fine, good, but… there. Her magic flickered. Something about it swayed, like a candle struggling against a draft.  She knew life was golden warmth, like sunshine, and this was too much fire and not enough oxygen. No wonder it hurt. 

It made her bold, brave enough to give voice to what she felt.  "Don’t, Regina, I might be your kid too, but I'm not Henry. You don’t have to protect me okay?  Mom was pretty concerned that she had to dragon you last night."

Regina looked like she wanted to protest but instead just smiled sheepishly.  "Dragon me?"

 "She said that a focused gift of dragon's strength is enough to relieve most diseases and injuries, at least for awhile. We're like big magic batteries or something.." 

Regina’s lips quirked briefly.  "Dragons have tremendous reserves of magic. It makes spellcasting come easily," Regina paused. One of her hands drifted down behind her desk and Lily watched her rest it on her belly, protecting her baby. "Magic always costs. It varies. Perhaps, it's an emotion, a memory, or some other sacrifice, but there is always a price." Her voice was distant, and sad and Lily could hear the weight of too many memories unsaid.  

"So dragons have better magic credit limits?" She asked, deliberately trying to lighten the moment. 

It worked because Regina started and actually chuckled. “You could say that. Your mother says that it allows her to redirect passion. Being a dragon gives you more possibilities. Many spells that would need material components, or the right time of day of a certain position of the moon can be cast by dragons without those things. Your mother may make it seem like it's effortless, but I promise, it took her time to learn, you'll understand it too, with time." 

"So I'll be able to help people's headaches too?" 

Regina smiled, but her eyes crinkled at the edges in the way Lily was learning meant pain and her perfect posture was slipping away. Lily couldn’t help it, the urge to protect, to _give_ was too strong and she reached across the table, her throat tight when Regina’s hand took hers instantly.   

"You already help," Regina promised and it was such a mom thing to say, to even worry about, that Lily choked on her breath.  Laughter felt like tears until it left her throat. 

"Thanks," she said, still chuckling. "Sorry." Lily scrambled for an explanation. "You're such a mom. I know, I know you're my mom, and it's weird, because you're like five years older than I am, but you're so supportive, so quick to worry about me. Mal's the same way. Her heart's not even on her sleeve it's out here," she held her hand in front of her own chest for emphasis, "glowing in the middle of the air and you love me."

"Of course we do." 

"It's just," Lily paused, taking a breath. "That's not what I expect."

Pushing her chair back, Regina circled the desk, guided Lily up from her chair and hugged her. She held her so tight, so gratefully, that Lily's breath caught in her throat again. "Love is strange," Regina said, still holding her.  "I can't say that I understand it, or even get it right most of the time. The thing about our little family, our nest, is that we keep trying. We all fell headlong into the whole experience of finding that love as a family."

"Maybe we've already found it," Lily said, before she realised what the words even meant. She'd had a family that loved her before. Her parents had been the kindest people, but she'd known that something was missing, something had been wrong and she'd never been able to let that go. She would always feel guilty over that, knowing she’d hurt people who had been trying their best. But it hadn’t been their fault or hers. She had simply belonged to another world. 

This world. 

Being held by Regina now, part of her wanted to pull away, even now so unused to dealing with affection she actually _wanted._ She wasn’t giving this up though so she focused on her breathing, on the feel of her mom’s arms around her, and dealt with her stinging eyes by closing them tightly.  Fortunately, Regina seemed to understand because she let go quickly, stepping back and running her hands down Lily’s arms with that too-full smile. It was okay though. Little by little Lily felt like she was being stitched back together, all the missing parts of herself that she’d been searching for her whole life slowly put back. Maybe imperfectly, and certainly carefully, but looking at Regina, Lily could imagine a day - not too far in the future - when it wasn’t too much anymore. 

* * *

 

Mal was deeply suspicious of anything resembling a contract, even after Emma explained that it was just a statement attesting to their whereabouts during the attack and it was meant to protect her and Lily.  Still, it was clear the other woman was not pleased with signing the paper and it took Emma softly promising she would never let harm come to Mal over it before she was willing to put her elegant scrawl on the appropriate line and Emma filed it (properly, stop smirking Regina). 

Unfortunately, Mal and Lily had been together on the far side of the forest from town all of last night. Which meant they were their own alibis, and  it would be difficult to prove that both dragons had nothing to do with Whale and George's deaths.  She couldn't avoid evidence and there was a very real possibility Emma would have to say she was officially investigating them.  In what Emma hoped was a pre-emptive move,  she took Mal's statement, cleaned up the sarcasm - well, most of it- and filed it for Mulan to take over, thinking as she finished up that she'd trade a bear claw to watch Mulan deal with Mal. If anyone could handle Mal’s complete disregard for authority and snark, Emma had a feeling it was Mulan. 

Although for all their sakes, Emma made a mental note never to let Mal watch Mulan’s Disney version. She had a feeling Mushu wouldn’t go over too well...

 With the report stored on the (thankfully _finally_ updated) Storybrooke PD servers, Emma sent Mulan a text about keeping her in the loop on the investigation and then logged out.  Mal left as soon as she’d finished giving her statement to go prepare the spell. She and Regina would be waiting for her at home.

More magic. Five years ago she hadn’t even believed it was real. Now it was a part of her. Emma thought of Regina, and Henry, and _home,_ and vanished in a swirl of white smoke. 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Regina cast the joining spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to post this! My life abruptly turned itself upside down (I'm unexpectedly moving across an ocean) and it took me some time to get myself back. 
> 
> Things are sorted now though. Thanks for your patience. 
> 
> This chapter contains magically enhanced sex, which isn't really sober, and minor mentions of blood.

Emma materialised in an empty kitchen, knowing as she emerged that Regina wasn’t home - the feeling of her magic was absent, like the loss of the hum of the refrigerator when the power was out.  Although in this case, the electricity was actually out too, but metaphors had never been Emma’s strong suit so whatever.

Thankfully, the spells they’d put on the freezer and fridge seemed to be holding, and the warm golden spheres of light currently floating up by the ceiling in place of the kitchen lights still made the room bright and welcoming. 

Regina might not have been home but Emma heard voices upstairs - Henry, talking to Mal she assumed, because only Mal would leave a faintly smoking, slightly glowing glass bottle of...something on Regina’s kitchen counter along with several other ingredients, a wickedly sharp silver knife and several towels. 

Inching closer, Emma bent to peer into the corked glass. It was filled with some form of liquid but there shimmering things, scales? Inside, drifting slowly as if in a current.  When the light hit them right, they twinkled. 

"Don't stir it up any more," Mal warned from behind her, stepping into the kitchen, faint smile on her face. 

Emma held up her hands, proving her innocence. "Haven't touched it."

Mal’s smile grew a little wider. “Regina’s been teaching you well.” 

The jibe earned her a half-hearted glare but it was a truth Emma could hardly deny.  "It’s pretty," Emma said, changing the subject. 

“It is. It’s also very powerful.” 

Both women were silent for a moment, and Emma reflected that was probably one of her favorite things about Mal - she didn’t waste words, didn’t try to make conversation to fill a silence. 

“Thank you, “ she said quietly. At the confused tilt of Mal’s head, Emma shrugged. “For helping us- for helping Regina.” 

“I would do anything for her,” Mal replied simply, the truth in her words easy to read even without Emma’s superpower.  Mal’s expression softened slightly. “And so would you.” That too was the truth, and though the words felt somehow too big, Emma didn’t bother to deny them.  Mal surprised her though, speaking again, her voice - for Maleficent anyway - almost hesitant. “It means a great deal to me that you don’t try to keep us apart.” 

Emma couldn’t even begin for formulate a reply to that because it was inconceivable. Mal was Regina’s. The ‘what’ part didn’t matter, of _course_ she needed Mal in her life and as strange as it was, Emma felt better having her around. It was more than just that Emma trusted Mal to watch out for Regina and Henry.  Emma had spent much of her life fighting her own battles. It made her stronger, but the scars of those years still littered her skin. Mal was...Mal was someone she could stand back to back with in a fight. She was someone whose devotion to protect those they cared about was a steadying certainty for Emma.  Because of Lily, because of the dragon fire that even now still stirred - mere embers, but it was there - when Mal stepped closer, Mal was family. 

“You have a rare heart, Emma Swan. For a human.”  Her blue eyes twinkled, and Mal bent gently, pressing a soft kiss to Emma’s forehead.  And whether it was the remnants of the magic they’d shared or just _them,_  the touch didn’t feel invasive, Mal’s magic a familiar heat steadying her own, calming and energizing all at once. 

An instant later there was a shift in the air, both of them turning and smiling as Regina materialized, Lily by her side.

The expression slid from Emma’s face though. Regina paled even where she stood, dark eyes closing tightly. Lily’s arm around Regina’s waist suddenly seemed supportive and not just comforting and Emma moved before purple smoke even finished clearing. 

“She was fine and then she just--” Lily shrugged, her shoulders barely moving. 

“I’m still fine,” Regina replied, but her voice was just a little too tight for Emma to believe her, the way she let Emma pull her gently into a hug, cheek resting on Emma’s shoulder said all anyone needed to know about how Regina actually felt. 

“Lily, why don’t you go see if Henry has finished packing yet? We should do this sooner rather than later,” Mal suggested.

"Hey, we’re almost through this,” Emma whispered when Lily was gone. Mal was busy arranging things on the counter, pretending to ignore them to give them privacy. 

Regina merely hmmmd in reply, but Emma could feel her lips curling into a soft smile against her neck and relaxed just a little, stroking a hand up and down Regina’s back.

"I'm glad you had lunch with Lily. I think she wants to get to know you."

"She only watched me eat," Regina corrected. "I assume she had enough to eat with you?" she directed the last at Mal who looked up, answering grin terrifying in its sharpness.  Emma was suddenly glad that she wasn't a deer. Still it was nice watching Regina and Mal have such a mom conversation about her friend, even if she didn't want to think about how Lily must have fed. 

Fortunately , Lily returned a moment later with Henry behind her, his backpack over her shoulder. "We're ready for our sleepover," she joked. Henry rolled his eyes a little, but when Emma searched his face for any sign he didn’t want to do this, she found none. 

"Mal says I definitely won't want to be around you two," he said, making a ridiculous face of disgust. His eyes crinkled at the corners though, just like Regina when she was secretly amused. Regina held up her hand for him and he squeezed it, letting himself be drawn into a hug with both of them for a long moment before stepping back.  "It'll be nice when you feel better, Mom."

"Yeah," Emma agreed, her fingers toying with the ends of Regina’s hair. "And, sorry, I know this is pretty weird, kid.” 

Henry and Lily shared a look, Regina patted her hand, and Mal chuckled, her voice so deep in her throat that it almost sounded like a purr. 

"More or less weird than you dating a flying monkey?" Henry asked slyly, making Regina laugh outright and Emma groan in defeat. 

“Seriously can we let that one go?”

The “no,” came in stereo, Henry and Regina wearing matching expressions of glee while Lily and Mal looked far too interested for Emma’s comfort. “I’m disowning you both,” she muttered even as she pulled Regina a little closer. 

“No, you’re not.” Henry laughed. 

Regina pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. “At least your taste has improved considerably,” she murmured quietly while Lily and Mal held a quick conference about something and Henry dug through the cupboard, grabbing a couple  granola bars and shoving the box (just one box because it was all Regina allowed) of pop tarts into his bag while he thought Regina was distracted. Emma let him have the freebie. Absurdly, it occurred to her in that moment that she'd never date again. She wasn't getting married, wouldn't, because she knew enough about what marriage had been to Regina to ever ask her to relive that, and Emma wasn't really the type, but other people, all other potential romantic partners, weren't just off-limits, they were irrelevant.  In all the ways that mattered they were a family, bound by blood and magic and too many life altering experiences that went so far beyond vows and an exchange of jewelry. 

Emma nuzzled her cheek. "You're a couple steps up from a flying monkey." 

“Only a couple? Watch yourself, Miss Swan.” Regina smiled too much for the glare to have any heat. 

"I think Henry will find my house suitably interesting," Mal promised, drawing them back to the moment. She tested with razor sharp blade with her finger and nodded when it came away with a line of blood, waving her other hand over the cut till the wound vanished as she looked at Henry. "My library's extensive and should contain a number of volumes that you won't find elsewhere."

"No dark magic though, okay?" Emma teased, nudging his foot with her own.  

“I couldn’t cast it anyway, Ma.” The _duh_ unsaid but not unheard. 

"Still--"

"Mal means books about dragons and other magical creatures," he explained, arms folded. "Her books are less biased than the ones written by most authors from the Enchanted Forest."  

Emma bit her lip. The moments where he reflected Regina's nerd side were just too adorable to tell either of them, so Emma loved them both quietly.  The way Mal practically preened was almost unbearably cute too and Emma thought she saw Regina hide a smile against her shoulder. 

Finishing the last of her preparations, Mal straightened, eyes serious once more. “If you’re ready, we should do this now so the spell has time to set and you two have time to adapt before anything else goes horrible wrong in this town.”  Removing her blazer and rolling up her sleeve to expose her pale forearm she gestured at them.  "Sit, I'll need your right hands, wrists exposed."

They obeyed, Regina easing onto the stool at the kitchen counter delicately and Emma trying not to hover before dropping into the chair next to her. The sound of chair legs on the floor was loud as she scooted it closer to Regina, earning her a ‘must you?’ look, but then they were touching, shoulder to shoulder, and Regina’s face gentled. While Henry and Lily looked on, both of them rolled up their sleeves. The knife returned to Mal's fingers, glinting in the light and Emma shared a look with Lily, who seemed to be the only one as concerned about the blade as Emma was. 

And then Mal spoke, and the knife ceased to be of concern.  Deep and gutteral, the words that fell from Mal’s tongue weren't _words_ , at least, not as Emma’s mind understood them. It wasn’t just hearing someone speak a language you didn’t understand though, there was _power_ in the sounds, syllables vibrating through her bones, bypassing her ears to hum beneath her skin, speaking only to her heart. Emma didn’t _hear_ so much as _live_ and she knew it affected Regina the same way when a tremor passed through her frame.

Then it was over, Mal fell silent. The power lingered, like sparks at the edge of her vision. Emma could taste it like a storm on the back of her tongue, and the fine hairs on her arm tingled, skin tightening with goose bumps as if were cold.  The power was warm though, and beneath the charge, Emma tasted Mal, drawing her back to the dragon fire, steadying her when it became almost too much. Beside her, Regina shifted, and a soft touch on her wrist made her look up. The question was clear in Regina’s eyes and Emma shook her head. She was okay. She wanted this. 

Unheeding (or perhaps just knowing Emma’s heart) Mal continued, sliced into the soft skin of her forearm till it dripped blood into one of Regina's good bowls. The familiar metal and sulphur scent of dragon blood filled Emma's nose and the power seemed to grow, straining at the fabric of this world. Uncorking the potion, Mal slipped the blade into the shimmering liquid and let her blood mix in. It glowed red, shimmering brightly then fading to a soft purple, a lighter version of Regina's magic. 

Later (much much later) Emma would remember only fragments. She recalled the way the liquid shimmered against Mal’s finger and the way it _felt,_ burning like ice on her skin when Mal traced a sigil on their forearms. she remembered Mal saying something - not a spell but an explanation - something about binding and the strength of a dragon’s blood. 

Emma would remember the flare of icy heat soaking into her skin, like that time she’d chased a bail jumper to a racetrack and after a knock-down dragout in a barn aisle, one of the grooms had looked at her and shook his head, handing her a dirty bottle of something and telling her in Spanish to use it liberally. It had soothed and burned all at once, seeping into the muscle below. This went deeper. 

Much deeper. 

Later Emma would remember fire, power, the sudden pull of the mating bite Regina had left on her neck, throbbing anew.  

Mostly though, what Emma knew about those moments was Regina. As soon as Mal completed the twisting designs on their arms, everything else - every _one_ else - faded into the background. The connection that had always existed between them in some form, born in a shared destiny, built of anger, of lust, of desperation and fear and trust, of loss and learning and kindness and understanding, the ties between them that had become love, and need and family, Emma could _feel_ it, all of it, the way she was entwined with Regina through Henry, through their magic, through the blood of the child she carried.

“Emma?” Regina’s voice, close and worried. About her. That this was too much. 

Emma smiled, or thought she did, it was a little hard to tell. “I’m okay,” and what she couldn’t say with words she tried to tell Regina through that shining thread she could almost see between them. It must have worked because she felt as much as heard a soft gasp, and Mal’s low hum of approval. 

She said something then, in that harsh, beautiful language that Emma couldn’t hear but saw like jagged volcanic cliffs in her mind, and things got a little fuzzy again. She felt Mal guide their hands together, bringing their palms over the sigils, the heat radiating off their skin even though they hadn’t touched.  The words might have been impossible but the intent was clear.

"Okay?" Emma whispered, her turn now to be sure, to ask one last time if this was what Regina wanted. 

Regina answered the same way Emma had earlier,  words and emotion pulsing between them.  "Yes, Emma," Regina answered, her eyes clear and full of faith and Emma forgot how to breathe. Their hands came together at the same time, palms closing over the bloody sigils and closing the circuit between them.

It wasn’t harsh or sudden,  nothing  slammed into her. It started gradually, tingling like a limb now waking up after being asleep. It warmed, growing quickly into tiny points of flame and as air around them grew hotter, Emma realized she could feel Regina’s heartbeat in her own chest. She thought it might sting, or maybe the tingling would rise through her, or run down her spine. Instead it faded and she just felt...Regina. 

Regina had claimed her, Regina wasn't going to give her up, she would be kept, would belong.

Always. 

She was still Emma, but somehow so fully Regina, that Emma tasted her own lips with Regina's tongue, her head pounding with Regina’s headache. Had it hurt this badly all day? Had it only been since lunch? Why was Regina walking around with this kind of headache when she should be--

Warm fingers brushed Emma's cheek, and they were warmer than her flesh, yet she felt her skin, cool and soft. 

"I'm sorry."

"Your head hurts," Emma said, or maybe just thought, it didn’t matter.  Rubbing her head didn't help, and she reached for Regina - maybe if she touched her.  Regina  was already leaning closer, their foreheads resting against each  other and Emma’s heartbeat, _their_ heartbeat began to drown  out  the pain. Time slipped sideways and they breathed. In. Out. There was nothing explosive, for all the power in the air, the way it crackled on their skin and teased at their lips Emma didn’t feel trapped. Every breath they took, every beat of their hearts just brought them closer, every slowing, merging, did their blood run through one body, then the other, or was it magic, circling between them both?  Did it matter?

As if from a distance, she heard Mal say something - in English this time, so unexpected that it still took  her brain a second to catch up. 

"Henry, Lily," Mal said, handing them each one end of a long ribbon. "As their loved ones, you finish the bond because no relationship exists alone. We all depend on our nests."

With the solemnity of a true prince,  their son wrapped the ribbon around his mothers' wrists and hands, his crooked little smile only making an appearance as he stepped back. It made him look younger,  like the boy standing on the other side of a door with eyes the same color as her own.  Lily’s smile was more careful, tentative, more for Regina than Emma, but her eyes were bright, soft and full of something Emma understood. Disbelief and confusion and somehow, acceptance that this was her family and this time, she'd keep them.  They'd keep each other. The ribbon didn't seem magic, maybe it wasn't, but Henry and Lily bound them, wrapping their hands together. 

"When you're ready, burn the ribbon," Mal said, then she smirked. "Not until we leave. I assume you'd prefer not to have an audience."

Lily chuckled and Henry winced. Emma blushed, and a similar redness crept up Regina's face. She shared the warmth of blood rushing beneath her skin, Regina's skin, and the heat only grew, pulsing between them. 

The pain in her head- Regina's head- faded, slipping beneath the heat of the spell. The rest of the kitchen started to blur, Henry was there, then he wasn't. Lily disappeared in a cloud of smoke with Mal, who laughed. 

Maybe Emma laughed or maybe that joy didn’t come from her but she felt it as it it were her own, pushing upward against her ribs, bubbling out of her throat. Regina smiled, and Emma's lips followed hers. 

* * *

 

They poofed together, magic swirling together in a bright cloud and Emma almost regretted because _counters_ , and her hands under Regina’s ass, lifting her easily, laying her back, rumpling her perfect suit until there was nothing between Emma’s hands and mouth and Regina’s skin. Only the knowledge that Regina would never let her (‘we _eat here_ Emma,’ ‘yeah that was the idea,’ ‘oh my god you are impossible’) kept her from poofing them right back to the kitchen and acting out that particular fantasy where she could kiss up the silky skin of Regina’s inner thigh, could lick and taste and suck until Regina came sobbing…

“You can still do that,”  Regina's hoarse whisper curled inside her, tightening something low in her stomach  and Emma groaned. 

Any regret she might have had disappeared, like the smoke from their magic, when her knees hit the bed though. Their bed, where they had begun this. Where she'd first burnt off Regina's clothing and gotten to know her skin. Those memories were still hazy, her and not her, but etched deep in her muscles, in her bones. This was different. The room around them was faded, dim, unimportant but Regina was bright and sharp and impossibly _real,_ like an altered photograph. She was color in a black and  white world, everything about her magnified, filling Emma’s senses.   When she brushed her fingertips across Regina's arm, she felt the touch,  and she felt _being touched._ It made them both shiver, Regina’s lips parted in a soft gasp and Emma’s heart thundering in her ears. 

Regina met her gaze, and Emma saw herself: her own green eyes, her pupils widening and her lips parting. Regina leant closer, and Emma knew what it was to want her own lips pressed against Regina's. Fingers brushed against her breast, or was it Regina's because it was sore? She gasped- or Regina did, because it was almost too sore to touch, yet Emma's hand, _being touched_ , made heat creep lower in her belly. 

The ribbon burnt, turning to ash around their wrists, as if they'd come to a silent agreement that it was time.   Their hands clung to each other for a moment, then when they released, the pattern glimmered in blood before it faded into their skin, becoming part of them. 

_Theirs_. 

They backed towards the bed, giving in, slipping down and pushing up, in, parting their legs. They gasped, and hissed. One of them moaned, but the sound came from two throats and their magic surged forward as if finally freed from a cage to meet, rising, merging--

They crashed onto the blankets, the neat bedspread and the meticulously placed pillows. It didn't matter what was beneath them, the fabric was insubstantial compared to skin, lips and tongues. This was only their bodies, wrapped together, skin on skin: the sweat and breath of one being. It fulfilled Emma as much as it scared her- scared them- because the shiver of fear was theirs together. The calm, patience, and acceptance were all theirs as well. The physical sensations connected them, and were less than magic that pounded between them, but touch reflected their magic. Fingers found slick skin and then slicker heat, teasing and touching and caressing until it wasn’t enough, they needed more, deeper. 

It wasn’t the physical sensations that nearly overwhelmed Emma though, it was Regina's eyes, it was almost seeing herself _through_ those eyes, feeling Regina's unrelenting love for her, her trust as if it were her own, knowing what she felt for Regina now beat in the other woman’s  heart, that brought her to the brink, made her cry out as her release washed through her muscles, burning down the insides of her thighs and bowing her spine.  There was no room for doubt, for ‘not good enough’ and ‘not wanted’ anymore she was too full,  her heart was too full of Regina,  of her desire and her strength and  - 

“Stop thinking,  Emma.” Regina kissed the order into her skin and Emma obeyed, because  she could feel the love underneath the words. 

“I’ll remind you that you said that one day,” she said. Then laughed, shifting Regina under her, careful and tender as she let herself sink into Regina’s need, followed the ebb and flow of emotions as she kissed and caressed and didn’t fight the magic pulling tighter around them. The spell wasn’t finished yet, Emma could feel it, even as she moved down the bed,  settling between Regina’s parted legs and finally, finally got to kiss that soft, soft skin. The spell thrummed between them, pulsing and humming, singing through blood and bone, taking parts of them both. All magic had a price, Gold had certainly told them often enough but as  Emma looked up Regina’s body, at dark, dark eyes and parted lips, and complete and utter trust,  she knew she was more than willing to pay this one. Emma was easily willing to give up that lonely, terrified part of herself that had long ago accepted she would never _belong_ in order to keep this: to keep Regina and protect their daughter, who needed all of their strength. 

When Regina held out her hand, Emma took it, letting herself be pulled up to press their bodies together, fingers seeking and finding and Emma kissed her, then licked the sweat from Regina's neck and held her while orgasm raced through both of them, like fire on the side of a mountain. Together they fell into the tiny death between heartbeats, drifting as one. Their hearts beat together, strong and steady and soft. Regina laughed weakly against her shoulder, kissed her and they were united, safe, _together_.

Emma faded out for a moment, aftermath of pleasure a promise in her blood, lulling her senses for a while so it took a moment to realize Regina was whispering something, lips against Emma’s forehead. “You’re with me,  you’re here.” 

Emma knew now, with the connection between them, that Regina wasn’t just saying this to Emma, that loss after loss made Regina so terrified of holding on - 

“I’m here,” Emma promised. 

Those dark pretty eyes glittered in the low light of their bedroom. “We’re here.” 

Emma breathed Regina in, wrapping arms around her slim shoulders until they were pressed together. “I feel - “ 

“Everything,” Regina sighed, finishing the thought. 

“Everything.” 

It still felt like almost too much, like Emma’s skin wasn’t enough to contain everything she felt, but Regina’s arms tightened around her,  “I’m here,” breathed against her mouth and Emma clung to it. Everyone needed her to be the savior, the  protector, the hero but Regina only needed her. “You’re  enough, Emma. You’re more  than enough and I'm keeping you." Regina's little smile warmed her chest. "We're keeping you."

This time when Emma pulled back it was with intent and Regina’s eyes sparkled, following her. Emma knew why, knew what Regina had suffered, that she used to look at the ceiling or the wall, anything that wasn’t _him_ so she held Regina’s gaze even as she dropped soft kisses down her body. “I’m here,” she whispered,  pressing her lips above Regina’s heart. “I’m here.” 

* * *

 

Waking up with that damn headache blissfully absent for the first time in _days_ almost made Regina groan in relief. The binding spell had set, effects fading, and she was in her own skin once more, her skin that was the same temperature as Emma's, finally not feverish. The sun already gleamed through the curtains and the clock read almost ten and they had absolutely nowhere they needed to be. It was such a rare and delicious luxury, Regina wasn’t going to waste it. She cuddled closer to Emma's naked body, not because she needed the warmth of her skin, rather for the sweetness of touching her. Emma slept on, the slow rise and fall of her breasts against Regina’s back, her breath warm on Regina’s neck, magic slumbering and soft, nudging Regina back toward sleep. Regina fought the temptation though, wanting to savor this feeling of peace.   When Regina brushed her hand past her nose, she smelt sex and sweat and parts of her were still deliciously sore from Emma's touch. 

Shifting slightly, she slipped her hand beneath Emma’s where they rested below her navel, protecting their daughter  even in sleep. She'd be safe, and if it was possible for this pregnancy to continue without the pounding headaches and sudden changes in body temperature, Regina was thrilled and relieved. Emma and Henry could stop worrying, Mal wouldn't have to fuss, and maybe she'd be able to handle a cup of coffee - decaf of course, but still coffee -  or get through most of her breakfast without being nauseated.

It was knowing Emma and Henry wouldn’t worry as much now, that the concern would fade from Mal’s eyes. That their daughter would be safe. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Emma mumbled, voice rough and cracking even as soft lips kissed her shoulder.  “Hey, you're not burning up," Significantly more awake now, Emma snuggled closer, relief in her voice. "That's good."

She felt so good, holding Regina gently that the teasing went unanswered, Regina just allowing herself to be held. “Hmm, the headache's gone too."

Emma made a affirmative sound.  "Feel that too. I'm glad. That headache was brutal."

"It was fine."

"You wear heels with a sprained ankle, your version of fine is suspect," Emma muttered. Moving carefully, she tugged Regina gently around until they were face to face, arms still around each other. "You look better,” Emma whispered, eyes bright in the morning sun and a gentle smile on her face. 

"I thought I looked beautiful," Regina teased. She toyed with Emma's soft hair, twisting it into curls in her fingers. 

Emma wrinkled her nose. "You're always beautiful, but I like it better when you're not flushed, too pale, or you have those deep dark circles under your eyes." 

It probably should have been insulting but there was so much care, so much _need to make it better_ in Emma’s expression, in the way she held Regina, that it was impossible to be mad.  Emma reached up to trace along the delicate skin beneath Regina's eyes. "They're not as bad.  I'm just happy you're okay."

"I was okay before."

"This okay is better," Emma insisted.

“You know that’s because of you right?” Emma's smile bloomed, sweet and cautious and hopeful, because even now, after all they shared, Emma still didn’t believe she’d done something right. It was a reminder of just how much baggage they both had that couldn’t be magicked away by spells. They were bound, together, for themselves and this child but they were still Emma and Regina. Still carrying painful pasts, souls littered with scars, so far from perfect it was laughable. 

Regina had never felt anything so right. 

“What?” Emma asked but Regina just stroked her cheek. 

“I’m just...happy.” Regina felt the impact that final word, those two syllables had, felt the way Emma stilled, felt the spark of her magic leaping out to touch Regina’s, the wild joy Emma felt present only there, where she absolutely couldn’t hide, and in her eyes, where she didn’t try. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” Regina promised. She didn’t say anything about Operation Mongoose,  or about endings - they both knew better than that - but they were both thinking it, could feel it in the still-fading connection between  them and the brush of magic.  She kissed Emma then, slow and lingering, taking her time, savoring the taste of Emma against her lips.

They kissed again, gentle and lazy, then deep and not so lazy, until a beep interrupted them.  Emma  groaned, reaching to slap the alarm clock and sighing, rolling onto her back. "We promised brunch."

"Mal will be late," Regina reminded her. "She's always late,” she murmured against Emma’s neck, nipping gently at the strong tendons there. 

A noise of protest answered her, Emma reluctantly moving away and sitting up, shaking out her hair so it fell tangled down her back. “When did I become the responsible one here?” She pouted playfully. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled. 

Regina laughed. Not her normal dry, amused chuckle but a deep, easy laugh as she fell back against the pillows. When was the last time she laughed this freely? She couldn’t remember but even as she gasped for breath, she held out her hand, and Emma’s fingers entwined with her own. Blinking the tears from her eyes she pulled Emma close, shaking her head at the stain of color on pale cheeks. 

Emma was smiling though, as bright and big as Regina herself and when Regina kissed her,  she could feel that smile against her own lips. “Go take a shower,  I’ll be there in a moment,” she admonished softly, stealing one last kiss before nudging Emma in the direction of the bathroom. 

Instead of moving, though, Emma sat close, taking both of Regina's hands and resting them against her thighs. Her thumbs rubbed gently along Regina’s knuckles and her smile slide into something careful, gentle and intense in that peculiar way only Emma ever seemed to manage that made Regina’s heart trip a little in her chest. It usually foretold one of the rare moments where Emma allowed herself to be vulnerable. 

"I know you're okay, and you were going to be okay, and that you'll keep telling me you're okay."

"I am," Regina interrupted, wishing she could do something to soften the knot of worry that was so obviously still in Emma's chest. 

"I know, I-" Emma searched for words, "it's just that, now I'm excited. I was happy before, because it's you and you're- well- having a baby with you is perfect, but I hated seeing you sick and now you look so much better and--"

"I love you," Regina said, ending Emma's worried babbling gently. Sitting up, she pulled her hands from Emma’s grasp and cupped her warm cheeks.  "And I’m alright, _we’re_ alright, I promise. "

Emma’s smile was watery and grateful. With one last quick kiss she pulled away, slipping toward the shower. Regina didn’t even bother not to try and stare at her ass. "I'll be quick, then you can have it."

"There are two showers," Regina reminded her. "Or I could use magic." The sound of the falling water drowned out anything else Emma might have said. Shaking her head, Regina leaned back against the headboard, staring idly at her stomach. There wasn't anything to see, not yet, her clothes still only a little tight. She tried to imagine having to alter her suits,  tried to imagine what it would feel like, look like as her  body changed. 

she was still standing in front of her closet, studying her clothes, when Emma emerged from the shower. 

Wet, clean Emma wrapped herself around her from behind and held her close. Emma didn't say anything, but Regina knew what was in her heart, and that was enough. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina's pregnancy stabilises. Emma lashes out at her parents, Mal tries to help her understand the importance of being here now, not lost in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to Race for her beautiful work and Miricleo for being so positive. Thanks for your patience while I get my update schedule back. 
> 
> Regina's pregnancy stabilises. Emma lashes out at her parents, Mal tries to help her understand the importance of being here now, not lost in the past.

Only magic got them to Granny's without being late for brunch, and it turned out to be perfect timing. Mal, Lily and Henry appeared in a swirl of silver smoke before they could even step into the diner. 

Henry took one look at Regina and almost threw himself into her arms, relief all over his face, and Emma resolutely pretended her eyes didn’t sting at the surge of emotion she always got when their son and his mom were happy.  It hit home just how much better Regina felt too, watching her hug Henry tightly, her smile practically blinding. 

Mal and Lily were more reserved, but Emma caught the sparkle in Mal’s eyes and a soft nod in her direction. Emma mouthed ‘thank you' in return.

She  had to marvel just a little at the turns her life took where it felt normal to walk into the diner, Regina at her side. Henry hurried in front, his stomach rumbling loud that enough Regina teased him about it. Mal held the door for Lily to follow.  The five of them moved to a table and sat down without the awkward shuffling that probably should have occurred - would have occurred with her parents. Emma still wasn’t sure what that meant; she just knew she was grateful. Warmth and lightness in her  chest had been gone for so long that she’d forgotten what contentment was.

Ordering was quick - most of them had the menu memorised, and Mal found breakfast food so strange that Granny usually just brought her sausages and bacon, sliding an extra plate with the eggs or hashbrowns she never ate toward Henry for Emma and her son to squabble over while Regina and Lily shared matching looks of amusement. 

It was normal, silly and familiar. Emma allowed herself to think about more days like this: a future where her weird family did things like eat breakfast and talk about chores and jobs and no one was screaming or bleeding and there were no emergencies. Where it was calm. Where she could be calm. 

"Lily's thinking about taking a job here," Henry announced around his waffles. Swallowing to avoid a pointed look about manners from his mom, he nodded to where Lily walked back from behind the counter, heavy ceramic mugs balanced easily in her hands from where she’d made their lattes with the shiny new espresso machine Granny still pretended she didn't understand. Emma knew better, and she guessed Lily did too, but Lily explained the machine, smiling and relaxed. Granny watched her with a too-knowing look and a smile of her own that might have been smug. Emma just stayed quiet.

Moving around the table, Lily passed coffees over to Emma, Mal and Regina without spilling a drop. It brought back memories of another cup of hot cocoa, a ruined white sweater and borrowing a shirt a long time ago. Emma smiled into her mug, ruining the pretty leaf pattern that Lily had made in the foam and making noises of appreciation. "Good coffee."

Lily shrugged as she sat, then sipped her own drink.   "Mrs. Lucas asked me to explain some stuff about the new machine and then offered, that’s all. It would be part-time and it's not like a real job, just some work while I get settled." She managed a little smile when she looked up. Regina reached for her shoulder, wanting to keep that smile on her face. "Yours is decaf," she said softly.  

Emma and Regina thanked her while Mal stared skeptically at her drink.  "I don't know why you would want to serve people hot milk with wriggly patterns. It's not like you need money," Maleficent said, taking a cautious sip, her features twisting in preparation for it to be terrible. She ran the coffee over her tongue, her face smoothing. She took another sip.  Emma met Lily’s eyes across the table and saw her friend trying not to laugh. 

Dragons trying coffee - what even was her life? 

"It would be nice to have a job," Lily answered, looking to Emma for help. "Makes you part of the town. Everyone else has a job."

"I don't," Mal said, as if only now realising that was the case. "Perhaps I should ask the town to pay me for all the repairs that I have facilitated," she said archly. She lifted her coffee towards Regina. "How are such workers usually compensated?"

"Pretty well," Emma said. "Usually they don't work on Sundays, or holidays and--"

"I've repaired streetlights on a Sunday," Mal said, looking to Regina, who had to nod because the three of them had worked non-stop to make at least the core of the town functional again. There was still a lot to repair: all the outlying houses still needed electricity, parts of the harbor needed to be smoothed out and dredged. Ursula had offered to help with the harbor, and it would only be the work of a week or two more (without Sundays) to have everything finally neat again. Of course, they still had the deadly creature to hunt down, whatever that was, and two funerals to plan, but for Storybrooke that was practically normal.  

"And I've compensated you," Regina reminded her, her eyes pulling at the corners in what Emma knew was her tell that she was trying not to smile. "You have a bank account, that you've never checked, and you pay for groceries out of that."

Mal raised an eyebrow, turning to Henry in realization. "You used my money to pay for our ice cream?"

"Mom said I should, because you wouldn't make the effort to understand how the system works here. I can teach you about ATMs and debit cards though, if you want."

Sitting up straighter in her seat, mildly affronted, Mal sniffed. "So I have a job and money."

"You're part of the municipal works and magical defense team and are compensated appropriately," Regina explained. They’d talked about this, but Regina had told Emma that Mal wasn’t big on details 'unless it came to spells’. She had little patience for what she called ‘human nonsense’ but it was still kind of adorable to see her dealing with small town bureaucracy.  Mal had even signed the paperwork Regina referred to but she’d clearly forgotten the whole thing.

"You could do that, Lily," Mal suggested. 

"I could," Lily answered easily, purposely keeping her smile small instead of openly grinning at her mothers. "But fixing the town is only some of the time. At least, hopefully.” She sent a meaningful glance at Emma who could only share the sentiment. “So I could make coffee too.” Lily shrugged. “I like making coffee. It’s easy, it makes people happy, and I would get to meet people in Storybrooke on better terms than landing as a dragon in their front yard."

Mal patted her arm, and nodded in sympathy. "Your landings have improved greatly, dear." 

Emma tried to smother a laugh at the expression on Lily’s face. Henry didn’t even try. Under the table, Emma's hand slipped across Regina's knee and squeezed her fingers, the answering grip and soft rush of emotion from Regina flared bright and hot and so, so _happy._ Emma didn’t need to look over to know that Regina was smiling, practically glowing with affection. This was what Emma had missed all her life. The tiny minutiae of strange family conversations, even if they involved Henry and Lily trying to decide if the town center should have a landing pad for dragons, or if the parking lot by the supermarket was big enough. Perhaps part of it should be blocked off.

Regina and Mal joined in the discussion about upgrading Storybrooke's infrastructure to make it all more “accessible to Storybrooke's non-human citizens” but Emma just let their voices wash over her, content to just be still, Regina’s thumb absently stroking the back of her hand softly. 

Of course it couldn’t last. 

The bell above the door signalled someone entering but it wasn’t until Emma heard familiar voices that it registered who had walked in. Even without seeing them, she tensed, Regina’s hand squeezing hers as she turned. Sure enough, Snow, David and a very fussy little Neal had arrived. The angry, savage part of Emma took a petty pleasure in how tired her parents looked, Snow even paler than usual with huge circles under her eyes and David definitely dragging his feet.  Neal must have been teething, judging by the level of unhappiness he projected loudly into the cafe. Emma cringed at a particularly high pitched cry. 

Granny stepped out from behind the counter, offering her arms and Snow reluctantly handed the kid over, heading toward the restroom while David went to drop himself heavily into a booth. Unfortunately, even in Granny's practiced arms, little Neal still fussed.  Everyone in the diner tried to go on about their meals but it was incredibly difficult with the constant crying.  Mal's forehead began to grow so furrowed that Emma was about to suggest they all just go home. - they were practically done anyway - when Mal apparently decided she’d had enough. 

With her usual fluid grace, she stood back from the table and strode across the room to stand by Granny who - to Emma’s surprise - merely nodded once and shifted Neal a little toward Mal.  Emma was dimly aware of the rest of the diner suddenly going quiet. David stumbled to stand from his seat, colliding with the tabletop and cursing while Mal just cocked her head, studying Neal’s red, tear stained face. Then without warning she bent down, kissing his damp little cheek softly. 

The crying ceased. Like a switch had been flipped, Neal’s eyes opened and he blinked, the redness fading from his skin, and little burbling sounds coming from his mouth. David - halfway across the room - practically stumbled to a halt, an expression of shock on his face that was practically cartoonish. Tiny chubby hands flailed in the air, as if reaching out toward Mal, and the dragon’s expression softened into something incredibly gentle and sweet. 

Which of course was just when Snow returned from the restroom. 

* * *

 

Regina used to dream of mornings like this - well not like _this_ exactly. But she had imagined what it might be like to be happy. This kind of vibrantly happy: with Henry smiling at her and someone by her side that she trusted, loved. In those dreams it had always been Daniel, or a nebulous face that only mattered as a placeholder.  Not even in her farthest flights of fancy had she ever imagined it would be Emma at her side, holding her hand. The sweet, sharp rush of happiness in their magic was never more than a single breath away now. She certainly hadn’t ever considered carrying Emma’s child, nor having Maleficent wrinkling her nose at coffee while their adult daughter tried to hold back a laugh. 

It was beautiful in a way that couldn't feel real. So when Snow White walked in the door, her son crying in her arms, Regina - just for a moment, just a tiny fraction of a second - considered cursing the damned woman to oblivion all over again. 

Just for a second, it was mostly just a reflex action, really. 

Emma left her seat, heading for her brother as her parents hurried over (oddly more concerned that Neal had stopped crying than they had been when his crying had continued). He was a less agreeable baby than Henry had been, and part of her wondered if she should offer to help. She had gotten Henry through his teething, but Snow had the rest of the town to fuss over Neal.

He reached chubby fingers for Mal's face, smiling a wide, wet, two-toothed grin. She reached out and took him from Granny, lifting him up so he could giggle into her face. 

Catching her mother's arm, Emma tried to calm her parents. Neal, oblivious to the history of everyone around him, continue to burble at Mal as if she were the most wonderful face he had ever discovered. 

"What's wrong?" Lily whispered to Henry, her voice low and worried. "She made him stop crying. Is this more anti-dragon crap? Mom would never hurt a baby. She's not like _them_."

"Zelena took my uncle right after he was born," Henry explained, sitting up straighter. "My grandparents are pretty protective of him." 

Regina forced herself walk slowly to Emma's side, but now everyone in the cafe watched Mal and the baby. Neither of whom had noticed that they were the center of attention, because Mal was having just as much fun making faces at Neal as he was laughing at her. 

"He's fine, Snow," Regina insisted. "She used a little magic to make his gums stop hurting. It's harmless." 

David looked from Mal and his son to Regina, unconvinced, and Snow's worried expression softened, just a little. 

"It's a dragon thing," Emma added. "Like aspirin."

"Babies can't have-" Snow started to protest and her panicked look returned.

Emma groaned and shook her head. "Not _aspirin_ , magic, and he's fine, listen to him."

"He's six months old," David argued, bristling behind his wife. "He's not a good judge of character." 

Reul Ghorm advanced from the corner of the room, slipping into their circle like a snake. Regina hadn't even noticed, but she'd apparently been Snow and David's companion for their meal. 

"Are you sure easing his teething is the best use of magic?" the Blue Fairy asked, her face a mask of concern. "I understand he was uncomfortable, but all magic has a price."

"Perhaps yours does," Mal answered, still holding little Neal up and making nonsensical sounds at him. "Mine is less constrained."

"Even your magic isn't limitless," Blue said, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"The tiny amount that it took to ease the baby's gums is hardly worth your concern," Mal insisted. With a final curt glance at Blue, Mal handed Neal back to his mother and returned to the table with Henry and Lily without another word to Snow or David. Emma's eyes followed her before they fixed on her parents, hard and cold. 

"That kind of dragon magic is harmless," Regina assured Snow, because she knew Snow and David had reasons to be so overprotective of Neal. "Mal's used it on me." 

"When you were sick," Snow realised. She looked Regina over appraisingly, the way she did when she was deep in thought. It was a queen's stare, even though she'd never become one. "You look better." 

"Thanks to Emma and Maleficent." 

"Oh?" Snow studied her daughter, handing her son off to David. The way he looked at Mal was still less than polite, but Regina didn't expect much from the two of them. "Your healing magic is improving then, Emma?" 

Regina smirked and looked at the floor because she would have loved to explain how Emma had 'healed' her last night. Snow didn't notice. Neither did Emma, and she didn't return Regina's smile. Something was wrong, and Regina's stomach tightened not with nausea, but with worry. 

"Well, I supposed I appreciate that Maleficent eased his gums. We haven't been able to find much that helps him." If Snow had left it there, they could have all sat down, gone back to breakfast, and perhaps Emma's anger could have stayed buried. 

Snow had never left anything when she should have. Maybe Regina should have found a way to impart that lesson when Snow still looked up to her. 

"Still, I'd appreciate it if she didn't pick up our son without asking us first," Snow finished. 

Emma's hand reached for hers and Regina squeezed it. Anger welled in her stomach, chasing away her concern. This was hot and seething, like lava beneath the stone surface of a volcano. Regina's grip on Emma's hand tightened, because it wasn't Regina's anger. Emma was furious, and she kept it back, yet it was only stronger buried.  Regina felt it, shared it, and their entwined magic rose in response, readying itself for a fight. Regina's heart beat faster, and her mouth started to taste of metal. 

"What?" Emma asked, her voice so deep it was ragged. 

"It's really not polite to pick up a baby without asking the parents' permission first," Snow said. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You'd understand, if you had a baby." 

Regina wondered if slapping her to stop the conversation would have been better than what was about to happen, but she couldn't move. Emma's anger rushed over her in waves, and her palms itched with fire. 

Emma's gaze fell over Lily and Henry, sitting together with Mal: the three of them unaware of what roiled in Emma's chest. Regina tried to soften Emma's anger through magic, thinking of how much they loved their son, how they'd protect their daughter. She focused on softness, on her love and trust for Emma, and the way Emma's smile lit her face. 

It wasn't enough. 

"I see. Did you ask then?" Emma asked, and everything in the question was a trap. Regina couldn't do anything. Perhaps she didn't want to, because it was her daughter that suffered. For all Regina's mistakes, her horrible acts, Lily didn't deserve to suffer.

"Did I ask who?" Snow wondered, her expression blank and confused. How many times had Regina wanted Snow to walk right into this kind of trap? Only now, she wanted it to stop. Emma deserved better than this. 

"Did you ask for Maleficent's permission before you took her baby away?" Emma demanded, making each word a knife. Her green eyes burned, merciless. "You took her from her bed, didn't you?"

Snow's expression crumpled, and hitting her would have been kinder. "That's not--"

"You did," Emma interrupted before Snow could finish. "I've seen the memory. I was _in it_. You took Lily while Maleficent was asleep. How is that different from what Zelena did to Neal?"

A fork clanged down to the table with the resonance of a church bell. 

"Emma," Regina said, touching her arm. "We should go outside." Even resting her hand on Emma's shoulder made their magic crackle, preparing for a fight that wasn't going to require it. 

Emma stood still and steady. "Why? Do we need to hide what they've done?"

The Blue Fairy watched them all, and though she hadn't spoken for some time, the way she watched Emma's fury was almost hungry. Regina didn't have time to worry about that, because Lily had gotten to her feet, and Henry's eyes caught hers, looking for help. "Mal doesn't want this," Regina reminded Emma. "Neither does Lily."

"So they've forgiven them," Emma said, her fingers tensing in Regina's. "I haven't."

"Emma, we didn't know," David insisted, coming to Snow's defense as he always did.

"Yes, you did." Emma released Regina's hand, and her whole body went tense, rigid like glass. "You decided to sacrifice another child. Anyone would have been innocent, but you chose Lily because her mother was a monster? Or just convenient?" 

"It's not that simple," David argued, but Snow held him back with a hand on his shoulder. Neal had noticed the tension in the voices around him and his chin started to wobble. Having a screaming baby in the middle of the argument would be the icing on the cake. "We thought Lily's destiny would be that of a villain, letting her become the destroyer was the most fair."

"Fair?" Emma repeated. "How is that fair? What if Lily's fate was to save a village or become the protector of a kingdom? You don't know, and you tore her from her mother to change her, and me." 

Neal started to fuss again and this time Granny rescued him from David. "I'll take him," she said softly, and Snow met her eyes just long enough to nod. Then she focused on Emma. "We didn't know."

"Bullshit," Emma snapped, and her anger radiated through her like cracks ripping through ice. "You decided that cheating my fate was worth sacrificing Lily, and because of you, she spent thirty-one years without her mother, and that didn't have to happen. She could have been with Maleficent. So fine, I was fated to be separated from my family, but she didn't have to be. She could have had her mother. You took that from her and now you act like Mal just touching your precious prince is going to hurt him. You _stole_ a child." Emma struggled for breath, her throat closing with tears. "I know how much Zelena hurt you and how much you say putting me in the wardrobe did, but you did that, you inflicted that pain, and you don't see it. You think you're above that somehow, don't you? You've justified it." 

Emma shook her head, her eyes wet with sudden tears. "And I can't. Do you understand that? I can't tell myself it's okay, because I'm safe, because that's not enough of a reason to ruin someone's life. What happened to Lily is awful, and she should have never had to go through that, and you keep saying that you did it for me. Maleficent's forgiven you, but I can't and when you act like nothing has happened, like there's nothing you need to make right, but I don't know how to do that. I don't think I can." 

Shattering like obsidian, Emma turned and left her parents reaching after her. She lifted her hands and vanished, teleporting away with an accuracy born of anger, far from everyone who'd been watching her. Regina could teleport after Emma in a heartbeat but Emma's magic roiled, betrayed and confused. She wasn't ready for company, or to be soothed. She needed to be angry first and she'd been holding on to it for too long. Emma had been so worried about the town, then Regina being ill, then pregnant, that she hadn't had time to process. 

Worse, she'd been in Maleficent's memories and felt the weight of Lily on her chest, listened to her delicate breathing and then the agony of her absence. Regina desperately wanted to go to her; she needed to, because she wanted to calm her, to tell Emma that it wasn't her fault, that she'd had no control over what happened to Lily. 

Instead, Regina stood facing Snow, while her family waited for her at their table. She wanted to race after Emma, to hold her and soothe her as best as she could. She was a heartbeat away from following, but Mal stood and met her eyes. Lily looked at Henry and also started to stand but when Regina shook her head, she kept her seat. Regina could have hugged them both. 

Blue raised an eyebrow and something about the look on her face made Regina's mouth go dry. Why was she pleased? Maybe that was the wrong emotion to ascribe to her expression, but everything about her presence made the hair on Regina's neck stand up. Getting away from Blue only made going after Emma more pressing, but Snow and David stared at her, as did the rest of the diners. She couldn't just chase after Emma. Mal tilted her head towards the woods. She'd go after her. 

Regina nodded to Mal, her chest tight. She'd stay, play nice, make sure Henry and Lily weren't too upset. 

Snow took Neal back from Granny, holding him close because this child she understood, at least for the moment. Regina and David shared a look but she didn't know how to help them see how upset Emma was and why their apologies weren't what she needed. She ached for Emma, but Regina couldn't get through to her hard-headed parents any better than she could. 

"Being the saviour is difficult," Blue said, and she must have meant to sound wise, but Regina couldn't help thinking that she sounded more smug. "It's a lot of weight for Emma's shoulders. Some resentment is only natural." 

Blue patted Snow's shoulder and, with David and Neal, they returned to their booth. They'd mutter in hushed voices and worry without listening to what Emma had said. The only positive was that Neal had stopped screaming. Maybe that was worth him being the catalyst of the argument that had been waiting such a long time. 

Back with her family, Regina rubbed Henry's shoulder, and squeezed Lily's warmly before she sat back down. Her breakfast had gone cold, and the pretty leaf on her latte had become a tepid swamp of espresso and milk. Her pancakes she could reheat with magic, but the coffee she didn't know how to save. The familiar scent of apple pancakes should have been delicious, and she had been hungry when she'd ordered, now on the other hand, her stomach decided it still had some rebellion in it, after all, even after the binding spell. It was almost pathetic after how bad it had been earlier, but it made finishing her food a tedious prospect. 

"Is Emma okay?" Henry asked, and Lily's eyes followed his, fixed on Regina with deep concern.

"She's angry and betrayed," Regina began. She knew Henry understood what that was like. "Those feelings are hard to work through, even when you have the time to think about them. Emma's been so busy--" She shouldn't have had to worry so much about Regina and the baby. The timing was terrible.

"This is not your fault either," Lily interrupted Regina's thoughts. "Before you end up on the 'this is my fault' bandwagon, just, no. Emma's parents made bad choices, and other people's lives were ruined. Blaming ourselves or them, even if it is their fault, isn't going to make anything better. We can worry about what happened in the past, or we can be happy now." 

Lily's heavy sigh gave away how hard she worked still to believe that. "At least, that's what Mom says, and she's doing it, I guess. So maybe that's what we should try."

Henry nodded with Lily and then looked at his mother, his eyes far too wise for his limited years. "I am really happy. You're better, Mom." (His smile made her heart soar). "Lily and I talked about comics at Mal's and she knows a few that I don't where the artwork is amazing, and she can draw, just like the comics when she wants to. So that's cool. It's better than I thought having a sister."

"Little brothers aren't as annoying as I was told, too," Lily teased, nudging his shoulder. 

"And Ma's so relieved," Henry finished. "She was so worried about you."

"I think we all were," Lily added, toying with the handle of her plate. "Being sick's really sh--" she stopped and corrected herself, "not fun." 

Regina smiled at them both; this was perhaps the first time she'd been alone with her children. She reached across the table, patting both of their hands. "Thank you for looking out for me."

"Always," Henry promised, turning his fingers to grasp hers. He smiled at his mother then turned that easy grin towards Lily. "We're family."

* * *

 

Emma had brought them to a thick, dark part of the woods. Good for ruminating, but she didn't turn when Mal appeared behind her. 

"I wanted to be alone," Emma said, putting as much malice as she could into her words. Almost impressive. 

"You're alone," Mal said, putting her hands on her hips. "I mean, well, you were, and now I'm here. Feel free to try and fireball me out of existence if it'll make you feel better." 

Emma sighed, or sobbed. It was difficult to differentiate. "That won't work."

Mal took a step towards her. "I know. Too bad for you."

Wrapping her arms around her chest, Emma shook her head, still not turning around. "I still don't want an audience."

Shifting through space so that she stood at her side, Mal nodded. "I've always always tried to avoid them, yet they barged into my castle, no matter how terrible a reputation I built up. Little queens wanting to learn magic," (mentioning Regina did make Emma's eyes appear less lost), "desperate peasants trying to save their precious goat, afraid someone had cursed their best mule." She sighed dramatically. "Or doomed their children."

Turning her head, Emma looked at Mal, her mouth slightly open. "Children?"

Mal nodded. "As you are well aware, people will trade anything for their children's safety and medicine in the Enchanted Forest is not what it is here, and even here, it's barbaric. Rather than let certain individuals take advantage of that desperation, I helped them, when I could."

"And you could?" Giving Emma something else to focus took the tension from her shoulders. 

"Using magic to heal a broken leg or cure a fever is not difficult or taxing. Better that I demand they steal some useless trinket from my own cave--"

Emma's eyebrows rose. "Your own cave?"

"Very few peasants had the presence of mind to connect the witch on the edge of the forest with the dragon sorceress who lived so far above them in her stone castle." Mal smiled, those were pleasant, amusing memories. "Many farmers crept into my cave so loudly that they would have woken the dead. I'd twitch my tail and pretend to be on the verge of waking while they'd rummage through piles of treasure, painfully loudly, might I add, before they returned to my little house." 

"They couldn't have been that stupid," Emma insisted. "There are pictures of you."

Mal smirked and shook her hair, allowing the horns she'd made part of her image for such a long time to rise from her head. "Maleficent the powerful sorceress had frightening horns on her head that mirrored the ones she wore as a dragon. The nameless witch did not." 

"You sound like it was a game," Emma said, shaking her head. "What if they failed? Did you eat them? Refuse to help their children?" 

"I ate a few goats," Mal admitted. She missed goat, it had such a unique gamey flavour. Maybe the old wolf could be convinced to put it on the menu in her tavern. 

"What about the children?"

"If they couldn't pay the witch, I kept them."

"Kept them?" Emma's expression hardened again and the pleasant smell of flame rose in her. She did anger so well, this one. "You kept their children?"

Mal led Emma to a fallen log and sat, pointing at the wood beside her. "What would you do for Henry?" 

Her expression softened, and Emma tried to follow Mal's train of thought. "Anything." 

"As any responsible parent would. A parent who flees from a sleeping dragon the moment she moves or balks at the price of curing a fever, is often a parent with too many children already, or one who does not appreciate what they have. When I kept their children, I trained them to be the servants and guards for my castle. They were well looked after, even if they did fear me unnecessarily." 

"And you did this for years?" Emma wondered, thoroughly distracted from her self-loathing for the moment. 

Mal had to shrug. "Centuries I believe. I didn't keep a ledger. It's far easier to raise a servant than train one. In my castle, I could make sure they knew their letters and figures. Out in those villages, they were lucky if they could make a cross on a piece of parchment. It was all worth it simply to annoy the pesky, little, self-righteous twits who twinkle and jingle around-"

Emma almost smiled at that description. "The fairies?" 

"I like to think that I stole a few of the Dark One's bargains from him as well." Mal folded her hands in her lap and Emma finally sat beside her. 

"Why isn't that story in Henry's book?" Emma asked after a long silence where she stared at her boots. "That's a nice story." 

"The author is not interested in what makes a good story, rather what divides his petty vision of good from evil. Dragons who raise the children of peasants do not fit neatly into either of those categories." Mal nudged Emma's foot with her own, drawing her attention. "You can craft your own story, no matter what the insipid book and Reul Ghorm have predicted for you.  Be as angry as you need to be, burn it off, fuck it off," Mal paused, grinning, "destroy some rocks. I like to see how hot they have to be before they melt or explode."

Emma finally chuckled, and it was still almost a sob. Her throat must have been so tight. 

Mal smiled at her, wishing she could calm her. "The past has been awful, and you have every reason to be furious. I don't want that to take away from what you have. Regina's much healthier and her pregnancy has stabilised, your nest is whole. Your baby's safe."

Grabbing her shoulder, Emma turned to her, meeting her eyes. "How do you know that? We just cast the spell last night."

Cupping Emma's cheek, Mal watched her manage to smile. "Can't you feel it?" 

"No, how would I- what would I do?" 

They were so sweet together, these two. "It'll be easier for you. You're joined with Regina's magic, and your child's within her. You feel her, don't you?" 

Blinking away her tears, Emma searched her thoughts, and she didn't understand right away. She opened her mouth to argue, but then she stopped. "She's calm."

"See?" Mal rubbed her thumb across Emma's cheek. "Focus on her, her magic is connect to yours, and your daughter is adrift on that, like a sea. She won't be much yet, like a lantern on the ocean, but she's yours and if you concentrate, you can feel her."

"I can't do that," Emma protested, pulling her head back a little. "I barely sure I know that I can sense Regina right."

Dropping her hand to Emma's shoulder, Mal studied her reluctant expression. "Why wouldn't you?"

Thankfully, Emma let the hand remain. "Shouldn't that be hard?"  

"Why?"

"That's- Regina's-" Sighing, Emma looked down at the dirt below their feet, then slowly back up. "When you said we'd be connected…"

"Magic is desire and emotion, want and need. If Regina's sitting at home with her children, what would she think about? What would she need?" Mal gave Emma the time to think, resisting the urge to reach out with her own magic and confirm what she thought. Emma needed to learn to use her strength.

Emma's frown began to evaporate. "She's content. Her magic's still, like water."

"And your daughter will be a presence within it, maybe she's immersed, like a fish, or near the top. She'll need different things as she grows." Mal lifted Emma's chin to look into her determined green eyes. "She's part of you, if you reach out, you'll find her." 

Emma's eyes seemed far away, lost in thought, and for a moment, she frowned because she must have doubted herself again, but then-- Emma's grin had the same warmth as embers. "She's there. She's really there. Like a little light-fish-thing?"

"That's your baby, Emma," Mal reminded her, holding her face close. "That's what matters. Whatever your parents have done, whatever you want to hate yourself for, you have this to be happy about. It might not make a good story for that biased book, but your family loves you, and you're exactly what they need."

Emma looked down, then pulled away, rubbing at her eyes. "I don't- I can't--"

"You do. You are so important to those who love you. Your rare heart is treasured by so many, for such good reason." Mal put her arm gently around Emma's shoulders. "Be angry when you need to be, but don't let it keep you from being happy now. Now is what matters. Don't miss a moment of now to be angry about something you can't change."


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry's family is absolutely weird, but they try to make peace. Snow and David end up staying for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to Wapwani for handholding and Miricleo for finding errors. :)

He loved his moms, and having them live in the same house was everything he hadn't realised he wanted. Mom was happy, happier than she'd been since he was very small, and she hummed when she was cooking and laughed when Emma made terrible jokes about how evil her rules about cleaning were. Emma, who'd always been afraid, wasn't with his mom around. Emma was brave, perhaps one of the bravest people he knew, but she'd always been held back, shy somehow, and she wasn't now. Not with Mom. They just fit, somehow.

Henry stopped counting the number of times he found his mothers asleep together on the sofa, a new trend that would have worried him if they didn’t both look...happy.  Still, it became a bit of a game in his own mind, ‘where am I going to find them next?’ He came home from summer school - losing weeks of classes after the storm had pushed school back until July - and found them asleep in the sun in the backyard. One night he had dinner with Belle - she liked having company, and he liked talking research with her - and came home to them asleep with books about magical creatures on the coffee table.

Of course, he would be the first to admit that he’d rather find his moms asleep on the couch than doing, well, other things, but he wasn’t quite sure why it kept happening. The website about pregnancy he'd read said Mom would be tired, but he'd never seen her this tired. She came home from the office already half-asleep, and sometimes Emma brought her home early because she was just too tired to stay. Mom hated admitting it, and she wouldn't when anyone else was around, but when it was him and Emma, she'd give in.

Emma found her yawning kind of cute, even though Mom protested a little, Emma's smiling made her grin back and then they just looked at each other. He couldn't watch, but looking away made him kind of happy. They fit together and they needed that.

He knew his moms argued about how long both of them worked, and their jobs being hard would certainly explain why Emma was so tired too, but this went beyond what he expected. Whenever they watched TV together, he woke them up when it ended, just so they could get up and go to bed.  If they drifted off in the afternoons, he let them sleep because he was capable of making dinner, doing his homework and entertaining himself until they woke up.

Mal and Lily came over for dinner most days anyway, because Lily didn't like to cook, and Mal didn't see the point of cooking anything other than meat, burnt just a little.  Even Emma agreed they needed vegetables sometimes. Henry remembered that day because Mom had looked at Emma with this really gooey proud look and Emma had smiled right back and he’d rolled his eyes at Lily who totally agreed even if they were both holding back grins.  Mal had just looked back and forth between them totally clueless.  So at least a couple nights a week, it was the five of them, falling into a surprisingly easy habit.

It was good to have other people around, because his moms were too cute sometimes (a lot of the time) and they needed time to just be them and in love with each other. So Mal and Lily came over, and after Lily had been working at Granny's for a couple weeks, Ruby started to come too, because she ate at the diner all the time and it was nice to eat something else.

He hadn't realised just how much Mom loved to cook for people, not just him and Emma, until she started putting as much effort into planning weekday dinners 'that were nothing special, Henry' as she did things that were important for the town. These were important to her and even when she was really tired, which was all the time, she wanted the food to be good.

So he helped, hanging out with her in the kitchen and learning to use the sharp knives and read Mom's  neatly written recipes so she could have a nap before Emma got home from work.  At first she didn't want to leave him to finish something, even when she could barely finish a sentence without yawning, Lily was kind of helpful, because she did try, even if she knew less about cooking than Henry did. When Belle's started to come over more, because her house was lonely too, she was a bigger help in the kitchen Belle was useful at keeping Mal and hot peppers out of anything that others might want to eat. She'd figured out early that Mal loved to argue about anything she thought the Fairy Tale historians had wrong, and they fought so much about the written accounts of life in the old world that often no one had to wake his moms.

Emma and Regina would step into the full kitchen of people, rubbing their eyes and apologising while everyone else smiled and thanked them for letting them take over. Mama always blushed a little, like she didn't know how to say 'thank you' when someone else had made her food so happily, and Mom often had to hide the fact that her eyes stung, but they had each other for that. It worked. He noticed more that his moms were both fragile in ways he hadn't seen, and that they doubted so much that anyone liked them, or wanted to be around them, that friendship and family, and 'nesting' in the way Mal described it, were weird for them both.

Good weird, but good weird often came with emotions that were hard to deal with.

It wasn't perfect, because Emma could still barely speak to her parents without being angry, sad, or just cold to them. Huge parts of Storybrooke still looked at Lily and Mal as if they might rampage down the street and eat people at any moment. Mom was still a little sick, nothing like she had been, but there were mornings when Emma had to convince her to eat toast. She'd been so careful not to look sick in front of anyone (even though he knew, he was almost fifteen) and once or twice, she hadn't been able to help it. She promised it was fine, that it was normal and that the spell was working, because 'it wasn't as bad as it was'. He believed that. Emma always looked after her, and Mal was a text message away, so when it was bad enough that she wouldn't let him help, she would let them.

Eventually, after he'd explained, at least three times, that he wasn't too worried about her, just a little worried, Mom let him read to her when she got her 'too much magic' headaches. On the bad days, she shared them with Emma, because that spell had connected them. When they'd had to do something big with magic, they both suffered afterwards, but eventually they'd trusted him to look after them. Then the house was quiet, but those days were rare.

Henry had never had his house full of people. Most of his life it had been him and Mom. He'd lived in the always-full loft with Emma and his grandparents, but this house, his mom's house, hadn't been full before. Now it had people in it, all the time. It was nice.

Strange and nice, because his life was always strange.

When Cruella and Ursula came to see Mal and his mothers, their visits were so wild  that he heard them after he went to bed. The bottles of wine would all sit empty on the table when he got up in the morning, and those mornings Emma clung to her coffee and they had to speak softly around her. They drank too much of Mom's wine, they made his mothers laugh, and they sang and they didn't have a history. Mom wasn't guilty, Mama didn't have to put what they'd done aside, like she did with his grandparents.

Emma didn't talk about his grandparents or what had happened with Lily. He wasn't even sure if she talked about it with Mom, because it was the kind of subject that went quiet when it was mentioned. When things were bad between him and Mom, he'd struggled. He'd doubted her, thought she hated him and she meant to hurt everyone. It had taken years for them to get back what they'd had.

His grandparents had hurt Mal and Lily by separating them, and he knew that losing a chance to know Lily had wounded his mother too. She loved him, and Lily was his sister, so she loved her now, but she'd missed so much.

His grandparents had stolen Lily, and his Mom had cast the curse so that they sent Emma away, so maybe in a twisted way they were even. Emma was still mad. She had a right to that, and letting people deal with their feelings was important. Maybe they should all talk to Archie. He'd been helpful to Henry, even if he wasn't a real psychiatrist.  He'd have to find a delicate way to suggest it, maybe starting with Mom. She'd take it best.

He'd gone down to the docks that afternoon and watched Ursula move the sea around so Mal and Lily could clean out the bay. Getting all the debris clear so the fishing boats could go in and out, had been one of the last big magic tasks of rebuilding the town. Mom and Emma had talked about it, but Mal and Lily wouldn't let them. It was the kind of big magic task that would have emptied them both for days. They were tired enough without that.

On his way home, Henry seen people putting up posters for the big barbeque on Saturday, and the rest of the kids watching the magic in the harbour were all excited for the fireworks.

Mom had agreed to let Mal and Lily handle the fireworks show, and though some of the parents apparently didn't like the idea, all of his school friends thought it was great. They thought it was pretty awesome that Lily had waved her claw at him and Mal had flown close enough above them to knock off two of their hats while they'd been down by the water. Being the Mayor's son had been bad enough, being the Saviour's and the Evil Queen's kid had been worse, because no one really even talked to him. Being friends with dragons was cool.

Not that he needed to be cool. It was just better than being alone. Wondering who'd be home now, Henry parked his bike in the garage and let himself in through the side door. He regretted his timing when he walked into the living room.

His grandparents sat on the sofa, coffee in front of them, and his moms sat on the other sofa. Mom hid a yawn behind her hand and he knew that if they weren't here, she'd be asleep.

Emma's cool stare and folded arms left Snow and Charming to lead the conversation.

"Emma, we--" Snow started and Emma shook her head.

"You can't just say something was the right thing to do and make it right. It doesn't work like that. You can think you were right and still be wrong," Emma said, with the kind of annoyance that suggested that she'd already said something similar a few times in this argument.

Henry recognised the unending discussion and picked up his phone. One sure way to make it stop was to have Mal in the house, and from the tone of Emma's voice and the way his Mom kept forcing her eyes open, this wasn't the right afternoon to bring this up again. It was bad enough that they were both so tired all the time, Being emotional on top of that was too much. They needed a break, even if it was just long enough to have dinner.   
  
He sent a quick text to Mal, who preferred to appear, rather than reply, and went to sit with his moms. He could have retreated to his room, but this was his problem too. Maybe he could help Emma, somehow. He knew what it was like to have a hard time forgiving his mom, and she'd done some awful things back in the Enchanted Forest. However, she'd be the first to take responsibility for her old ways and all the hurt she'd caused. His grandparents didn't get that. Not yet, anyway.

Regina put an arm around Henry, and it wasn't just to welcome him. She hid a yawn in his shoulder, and the way she leaned on him suggested that yeah, she was barely keeping herself awake. What would his grandparents think? He knew why his moms didn't want to tell everyone about the baby yet, but Mom was always so unstoppable. She came after him the same day she'd been rescued from torture. Her sister had flung her through the clock tower and she was still okay. Yeah, she was technically okay now, but she was so tired that she could have been awake all last night. Maybe they were claiming that she'd been on the night shift of patrol, or something.

"Sorry," Mom said when she yawned again. This time she didn't even lift her head from his shoulder. He patted her arm and looked at his grandparents. David probably wouldn't see it, but Snow, she had to notice. She usually paid attention to his mom; noticed things about her that other people didn't.  Willing her to see how tired Regina was, Henry stared at his grandmother. Her expression softened, and maybe he was being blunt somehow.

Snow paused, as if she'd heard Henry's concerns even though he hadn't voiced them. She turned her eyes from Emma to Mom. "We should go," she said. She hadn't responded to Emma's statement, and wouldn't, but if she and David let things go for the moment, then at least his mom could take a nap before dinner.

Standing to lead them to the door, Emma's cold look faded when she brought her gaze to him and Regina. She'd been trying to 'live in the now' because Mal said it would help. Most of the time, now for Emma meant gooey looks at his mom, and lots of hugs.

"I'll see you out," Emma said, losing her softness when she looked away from Regina and Henry. Magic hissed from the entryway, and Snow and David's exit was blocked by Mal and Lily's arrival in a cloud of silver smoke. Mal smiled one of her toothier grins, the kind that reminded him of Shark Week. Lily's stare was so much colder than Emma's.

"Hello, Snow, Charming," Mal said, her smile fading. She somehow had the appropriate amount of teeth now. However she did that was still a mystery, and it was a good thing Lily didn't know the trick, because she would have made it the threat Mal hadn't. Well, hadn't entirely.  

"They're just leaving," Emma interrupted, and her frustrated glare faded when Regina yawned again, this time hiding behind Henry's head. He squeezed Mom's hand, wishing he could help. Nothing would make it stop, unless she slept, and sometimes even that didn't help as much as he thought it should. If she wasn't careful, her nap would continue until the middle of the night. Then she'd wake up hungry and apologetic. He'd come downstairs to remnants of midnight snacks a few mornings, and those days Emma drank a lot of coffee.

"Good evening, Maleficent, Lily," Snow said. "Why are you-" she started to ask then stopped.

"Dinner," Mal replied with a hint of the dragon again. "I'm a terrible cook."

Even furious, Lily nodded and smiled a little at her mom. They were trying so hard and Henry was so proud of them both. "She is, so I am" she added. "We'd live on takeout from Granny's."

"And deer," Mal interjected, resting a hand on Lily's shoulder. "That would probably go badly for the local herds."

Grandpa shuddered a little, because he'd raised animals and he felt for them. Grandma only nodded. She'd probably killed a lot of deer when she'd been a bandit. "Between you and the wolves, they wouldn't stand much of a chance," Snow agreed.

"Exactly," Mal said, and this time her smile was gentle. It was almost her real smile, the one that didn't have any danger at all.

"Excuse us," Mom said, grabbing Emma's hand and tugging her back, away a few steps. They argued, because it definitely wasn't just talking. Mom's hands moved too quickly and Emma looked too annoyed, and somehow they kept their whispering low enough that no one could hear them. When they returned, Emma stared at the floor, not happy about how it had resolved.

"We'd like you to stay for dinner," Emma said, not making eye contact with her parents. Regina nudged her and she looked up and Henry felt nothing but pity for her, because he knew what it was like to have that look from Mom. It was impossible to get out of.

"We wouldn't want to intrude," Snow said, looking at David.

"I know Granny has the kid," Emma said, biting her lip a little. "And Regina's already made lasagna, and you know she always makes too much."

"I don't," Mom protested, and Emma squeezed her hand.

"You do, and it's delicious," Henry added. "Lily and I can make salad and garlic bread."

"That sounds-" Mom started towards the kitchen, but Emma caught her arm.

"You're taking a nap," Emma said, making it as much of a command as she could. "You're exhausted."

Henry saw the protest die in Mom's eyes. She knew Emma was right and she was getting better and giving in.

"Okay."

Emma kissed her, and all the command of a moment ago turned into concern. "I'll come wake you up before dinner."

"Why don't you take her upstairs?" Snow suggested, watching the two of them. Henry turned his attention to her, studying her face. Did she suspect something or was she just looking after his moms? She'd always been kind of protective of Mom, even when she didn't need to be.

Mom was badass, but at the moment, so very tired that she didn't even argue. She took Emma's arm and they headed up together. Neither of them complained and Henry suspected that when Mom lay down, Emma would fall asleep right beside her.

Once they were gone, Snow looked at Henry, and when she realised he'd never tell, she turned her eyes to Mal. "Is she okay?"

"Exhausted," Mal answered. That was an easy truth. "She took the late patrol with Mulan." That was a lie. Henry knew none of them would have let Mom take a late patrol. She was tired enough as it was. Even on her days off, when she didn't go into the office, or try to deal with whatever crisis Storybrooke had that day, Mom was still tired.

"Is that wise?" Snow demanded, following them into the kitchen. "Should you and Emma be letting her?"

Henry had to look away. Snow didn't have Emma's superpower, but he wasn't sure he could stop himself from blushing or smiling when he shouldn't have.

Luckily, Mal had no such problems with untruths. "Why wouldn't we allow Regina to protect the town?"

Snow and David looked at each other. David shrugged and helped Lily take the makings of the salad out of the fridge. She didn't like him being near her, but Mal wanted her to learn to be civil. In fact, it would probably make everyone a lot happier if all of them learned to be civil.

"Is she still recovering from that flu?" Snow asked, and again, almost to Henry's surprise, lying came easily. "It was worse than she told anyone, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Henry said, focusing on the knife in his hands. "Mal and Emma needed a special spell to make her better." He'd almost said _cure_ , but the binding spell wasn't a cure, just a way of stopping all the a truly awful pregnancy stuff. Mom still threw up, had headaches and took more naps that he had when he'd been four, but that was better than she'd been. 

"And that worked so well that you thought she should be on the night shift for this patrols?" Snow asked, shaking her head. "She's exhausted."

"You know how Mom is," Henry said, trying to steer the conversation away from what his Mom was and wasn't supposed to do. "No's not something she understands."

Mal patted his shoulder. "Emma's with her."

Lily smiled too. "They've gotten so much better," she said, chopping a pepper. Snow looked at her curiously, so did David, and for once, she didn't glare back at them.

"What was wrong with Emma?" David asked and Snow followed his eyes. "Was she sick too?"

"No, no," Mal promised. She had no interest at all in vegetables and just sat nearby with a glass of wine in her hand. "Healing magic can be tricky." This was only half a lie, and that made it easier to listen to without worrying about giving something away. "Emma spent much of her own strength trying to ease Regina's illness. Magic, like any other part of the body, can be over exerted and pushed beyond exhaustion. If you think of it as something physical, Emma ran a marathon that she hadn't trained for to heal Regina, and we keep asking her to keep running. We need her to protect the town, and now she needs to recover. Healing Regina took a great deal of effort and repairing the town has been a constant drain. It'll take time to recover, for both of them. The only reason Lily and I aren't exhausted as well is because we're not human."

Mal added more wine to her glass, poured a glass for Lily and a small splash of wine in a cup for him. He couldn't stand the taste of it, but she always let him try it. Then she and held up the bottle to his grandparents. David accepted quickly, and then Snow, a bit more reluctantly.  "Emma and Regina have also searching for some kind of winged horror--"

Henry watched the looked his grandparents shared and realised that convincing them that Lily hadn't killed Whale or King George was still going to take some work. "They'll find it and stop it," he said. Of course they would. "They just need a few naps," he said with a shrug. He hadn't realised how well hidden it was that his moms slept all the time. Henry always saw them at home, when their guard was down.

His grandma nudged David's arm as they took their wine from Mal. Whatever she wanted him to realise didn't seem to have sunk in, because she continued to hint and Grandpa didn't get it. Henry watched until his grandma looked over at him and they shared a moment of silent conversation. She knew about the baby, or at least suspected. She'd been pregnant less than a year ago, so that was logical.

Mom and Emma were going to have to say something soon. Some of Mom's clothes already looked different on her, and he'd heard her complain to Emma that her black skirt hadn't zipped right. He understand that it must have been hard to tell. They'd struggled telling him and it would be much more complicated telling Emma's parents. Mom had been responsible for the circumstances that led Snow and David to not be able to raise Emma, and they'd physically taken Lily from her mother.  

Lily still carried a lot of anger for them both, and he didn't blame her. Dragons had a genetic memory, so whenever she smelled them, she remembered the scent of the hands who'd taken her away from her mother. It was a lot to ask her to live with. That must have been why Mal put so much garlic in front of Lily for the garlic bread that the whole kitchen reeked of it. The garlic bread would be dangerous pungent, but the thick scent of it took much of the anger out of her face.

"What have you done to the kitchen?" Emma said, pausing in the doorway to rub her eyes. Her hair was a little messed up and from the circles under her eyes, "Are we worried about vampires or something?"

"The garlic bread's intense," Snow said. Something about the way she looked at Emma, and Henry's wondering that she knew settled into a kind of certainty. "You might want to warn Regina."

Emma nodded, only half paying attention. She probably wasn't worried because Mom really wasn't sick to her stomach any more. Grandma was fishing for information, and from the way Snow looked at her, she knew. Maybe Emma hadn't realised because she was tired, or still so angry with her parents. Henry saw the look on Snow's face. Were his moms ready to talk about the baby?  What was Grandma going to think?

Emma looked at the wine bottle in the middle of the table. "May I?"

Mal shrugged. "It's your wine."

Henry chuckled and correct her. "It's Mom's wine."

Emma glared at him a little over her glass as she poured. "You owe us about a case now," she said, pretending to be annoyed.

Mal dug into her pocket and produced the gold and black card she still didn't know how to use. "You can put it on this," she said, smiling with pride.

Henry smirked and Emma actually laughed. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"You put things on it," Mal repeated, looking at Henry. "That's how it works."

Shaking her head at her mother, Lily took the steaming garlic bread out of the oven and set it on top of the stove to cool. "You can't use cards with people. You use them in stores, and not Granny's because we still haven't fixed the machine." She smiled though, because Maleficent was trying. "Lasagna's almost done. Someone should go wake Regina."

Snow started to move and Henry stood from his chair. Better if it was him. He could warn Mom. "I got it."

Emma looked at him like she was being abandoned. Henry touched her shoulder and looked at Mal. She was here, she'd keep things together. Lily was trying so hard to be civil too. It was just dinner, they'd get through this.

"Be right back," Henry promised, more for Emma than anyone else. Mal and his grandparents were having a perfectly normal conversation about how strange money was in this world and Lily was concentrating on dinner. They'd be okay. At least, long enough for him to get Mom downstairs.

She was already half-awake when he knocked, and she invited him in. She ran her fingers through her hair, then sighed and pulled it back. "Have there been food fights?"

Henry shook his head and she put her hand on his shoulder. Her smile's so much easier now, and even though she joked about wanting to spend half the day asleep, she was happy.

"Thanks," Mom said. She put her arm around his shoulders as they walk downstairs.

"For what?"

"Keeping the peace," she whispered. Pausing outside the door to the dining room, she took a moment to wrinkle her nose. "Did you have to use all the garlic?"

"There's some garlic bread for non-dragons," he promised. "We just needed to help Lily. That smell thing."

"Right," Mom said. She squeezed his hand again, and they went in together.

* * *

 

 

Snow and Charming hadn't noticed the hint of magic she used to take the alcohol out of her wine. Regina couldn't help being pleased with that, because it let her drink from the same bottle that Mal, Lily and Emma were working quickly through. She hadn't had to lie again about being ill, or tired, or having a headache. It was going to be easier just to let everyone know so they could gossip to their hearts' content about their pregnant mayor, but Emma wasn't ready, and maybe she wasn't either. It was one thing to wish it was out, and would probably be quite another to have to deal with it. Luckily, she'd probably avoid being invited to Ella's baby club, or having to sit through the baby shower nonsense Snow had.

Her thoughts drifted too far and she spilt her wine all over her lap. Regina barely had time to register what she'd done, before her lap was cool and wet. Emma started helping her pat it dry and Mal passed over her napkin. Her trousers were thoroughly soaked, so she excused herself, smiling a little because Mal was much more upset about the waste of wine.

And Emma, sweet Emma, who was trying so hard not to fight with her parents, had started teasing Mal back and even Lily had a little smile and it was all right. For a moment or two, they'd had a family meal, even with the strangest extended family that she could conceive of.

Taking off her wine-soaked trousers in the laundry room, Regina dropped them into the washer and took a pair from the pile she'd intended to iron. She threw them on, even though the button didn't quite reach and she'd have to hide that under her sweater. They'd fit when she'd worn them last. had that only been a week or two ago? She stopped fussing with the button because they weren't going t fit unless she used magic, and spending any more magic was just going to bring on one of those headaches. She didn't need that.

She just let her sweater cover up the fact that her trousers didn't fit, and forced herself to relax. No one would notice.

It ended up being just in time. "Why don't you just use magic?" Snow asked from the door of the laundry room.

Regina startled, pausing as she threw more clothes into the washer so the load wasn't a waste. "They're black, it won't stain."

"You don't even have to use the washing machine though, do you?" she continued, taking a step closer. "You could just magic the whole thing, and then magic it into the drawers and--"

"Habit," Regina answered, because Snow was right. She could use magic. She wouldn't, because she had gotten so used to the rhythm of washing laundry over the years with Henry. There was something nice about it, knowing it had been done.

"So it wouldn't take too much magic?" Snow wondered and there was something so expectant on her face.

Regina's obviously meant to say something, but she wasn't not sure what Snow wanted. "No, not really."

"Repairs are harder?"

"Much," Regina replied, rubbing the back of her neck. "Wires and plumbing are so complicated. Houses are easy enough, but getting all the infrastructure back--"

"And that's made you tired?"

Realisation hit Regina with the same speed as the wine had hit her lap. She knew what Snow wanted her to say and what Snow was about to ask. "Yes-" Regina began, but that wasn't the answer Snow was looking for.

"Not something else?" Snow pressed.

Regina stood there, hand on the washing machine like an idiot. "Something else?" She wasn't going to say it and for an insane moment, she contemplated poofing out of there. Just leaving before she had to admit that she was pregnant.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Regina wanted to say no, but she nodded. "How did you-?"

"I remember how tired I was," Snow said, and her little smile was kind of beautiful. "We were still trying to hold the kingdom together, because we knew you were coming, and I had so much that I needed to do, but I just couldn't stay awake."

Regina's lips curled into a smile. "I can't."

"It's hard," Snow said and sympathy from her was as strange as it had always been. "Congratulations."

Regina nodded, but her face began to flush pink. She had no reason to be embarrassed, but her skin reacted. Her heart went tight and warm in her chest.

"How did you?" Snow continued, and Regina remembered how many questions she used to ask about everything when she was younger. "I mean, did you and Emma ask Maleficent for help?"

Regina stared, dumbfounded. "What?"

"You and Maleficent had Lily, I thought, well, I thought maybe you and Emma asked her to donate--"

Blinking at Snow in confusion, Regina finally got it. She grinned and bit back a laugh. "No, no, it's-" she stopped, because their baby wasn't an 'it'. "She's Emma's."

"Emma's?" Snow's eyes went bright and soft, and her voice broke. "You and Emma are having a baby."

"Magic," Regina explained. She shrugged and started to look away, but then Snow grabbed her, holding her so tightly that she stumbled back.

"A baby," Snow whispered, and Regina nodded again. Releasing her, Snow held her shoulders and studied Regina's face. What was she looking for? "That's why you were sick. Why were you running a fever? Are you all right? What happened?"

There was barely any space to step back, so Regina held still while Snow moved closer. She touched Regina's face, and something very soft gleamed in her eyes. "The magic wasn't right. Emma fixed it."

"Emma," Snow said, turning the word into a prayer. "She--"

"She takes care of me," Regina promised, wishing she could take some of the worry from Snow's face. She didn't know how to deal with worry, didn't understand it, especially not when it was directed at her.

"She does," Snow repeated. "You're pregnant." The tears in her eyes overwhelm Snow's lashes and one of the them started down her cheek. "Oh Regina--"

She hugged her again, holding her tighter, and Regina had no idea if this was the embrace of her baby's grandmother or of the child she once so reluctantly raised. It was both, somehow, and she had even less of a notion of which part of her hugged back.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Regina try to make peace with Snow knowing about the baby and the summoner takes the dragons out of the equation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Race and Wapwani for reading through. I've been moving this week so it's shorter than I'd like but at least the move's over with tomorrow. Apologies for any weird mismash of American and British spelling. I'm leaving one system for another.

Between the five of them, Lily, Mal and the Charmings made it through four bottles of her good wine. Regina changed into her pyjamas, fairly sure that her wine had been the only casualty of the evening. Emma had tasted like wine when she'd kissed her in the hallway after her parents had left, but she hadn't lost her temper. Neither had Lily, and Mal had been so proud of her. Bidding everyone goodnight had made her eyes sting more than she wanted to admit, and Snow had held her too tight and too long. Emma must have suspected something, but she'd been quiet.

After brushing her teeth, Regina crawled into bed with Emma, mint still filling her mouth. Emma remained on her side of the bed for a few moments that seemed to stretch out far too long before reaching for her. Her touch was tentative at first, barely a brush against Regina's arm. Dinner had been long. Maybe she'd pushed too hard trying to help her make peace with her parents, or Emma was tired--

But then Emma rolled over, gently pulling her in close until they spooned together: Emma's legs comfortably behind hers. The sweet scent of Emma's hair filled her nose, and Regina forgot about the garlic bread that could have driven all the vampires from Maine, if there were any.  

"M'sorry," Emma muttered into the back of her neck. "My parents--" It turned into a sigh. 

"I know," Regina said, holding Emma's arm against her stomach. She'd asked so much of her and Lily, because they didn't understand forgiveness the way Mal did. They needed to find some kind of peace, and it would be hard; Regina knew that better than anyone. Emma couldn't stay this angry for much longer; it hurt her.  "Maybe we shouldn't have--"

"No, that was good," Emma said, yawning a little. She moved her hand naughtily up to Regina's breast and rested it there. 

Regina smiled down at that warmth of that hand, even though it was so dark she could barely see it. She wasn't sure if either of them were awake enough for _that_ , but being held was comfortable, safe. "Good?"

"Not awful?" Emma amended, moving the pillow under her head. She wriggled again, then settled. The warmth of her seeped into Regina, filling the space under the blankets. "I don't know how Mal does it. She can sit with them and drink wine and be perfectly civil." 

"The wine probably helps," she joked, running her hand down Emma's arm. She had to tell her about Snow, and her chest ached from the idea. "Emma--"

Emma sighed and slipped closer, holding her tighter. "I know that tone," she muttered into Regina's neck. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_." At least, she hoped so. She hadn't thought it was so easy to tell. 

Emma rolled her over, turning Regina so that they faced each other, legs intwined. In the darkness, Emma's lips were soft, almost black. She toyed with her hair, smiling. "What happened?"

Regina shifted, staring up into her face. "Snow knows," she said, her heart thudded in chest. She was not afraid of Emma's reaction, but something hot and uncomfortable stirred in her stomach. Snow had seemed genuinely happy, but it was all so complicated. How was she going to tell Lily? 

"She does?" Emma's hand stroked her cheek, and she didn't need light to picture Emma's expression. 

"In the laundry room," she began, then Emma's mouth was on hers, gently softening the apology she'd already started to form. "She guessed."

Emma shook her head, sighing. She dropped her forehead against Regina's and lay there, with her blond hair tickling Regina's neck. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she answered, then stopped, letting herself truly weigh the idea. "She was happy."

Lifting herself back up on her elbow, Emma tried to make sense of that. Her eyes were so soft that Regina held her closer, a hand on her back. 

"Yeah?"

"Really happy," Regina promised. Snow hadn't smiled like that since before, a lifetime ago, when she'd wanted a little sister moe than anything and Regina had spent so many nights nauseated at the thought of it. Maybe it wasn't fair to think of that, because this was her grandchild too.  Regina smirked, then almost laughed when she remembered Snow's first thought. "She thought the baby was Mal's."

Emma tilted her head, then grinned. Her hand rested over Regina's heart, holding her. "Something you and the dragon lady need to tell me?" 

"Not like that," Regina insisted. Reaching up, she intertwined her fingers with Emma's. "Like a donor."

"Ah, well, I guess that's okay?" Emma shook her head again, her voice soft. Then she kissed Regina's forehead. Her mouth left a warm spot that tingled.  "Did you tell her that we're so magic that we didn't need one?"

"No," she said, her voice weak in her throat, unsure.

Emma cuddled against her, her head next to Regina's on the pillow. "Too bad," she muttered, getting comfortable. "Would have been nice to see her face." 

After that, she thought Emma was asleep, because her breathing had become regular and slow, but she broke Regina's thoughts. "She'll want to--"

Toying with the soft curls in Emma's hair, Regina sighed. "I know." 

Emma's hand moved to her belly, a familiar warm weight over the swell beginning to show. Emma's fingers slipped through buttons of her pyjama top and rested against her skin. "I kinda liked keeping her secret." 

"She's not in danger," Regina promised, but she wasn't sure how much either of them could believe that. They'd nearly lost Henry: to a sleeping curse, to Pan and then Zelena. This baby would inevitably end up coveted by some kind of dark force at some point, perhaps before she was even born. They feared that together, holding each other in the darkness, because together, they'd beaten all of those things. 

Together, they'd protect this child, like her brother. With Emma holding her, she almost believed it. 

* * *

 

 

Setting her note cards down on the dresser, Regina sighed and walked to her closet. Reading over her speech for the tenth time could wait until she got dressed. After several weeks of debate, the former July Fourth barbecue had been renamed the Midsummer barbecue, because Storybrooke had finally agreed that they didn't feel particularly tied to the holidays of the nation that had so little influence over them. Regina had not pointed out that they followed the laws of the state of Maine, and used the paper money of the United States, if only to avoid another debate on whether they should revive the gold standard of the Enchanted Forest and slap Snow's face all over their money. 

Not that Regina wanted it to be her face instead, she'd had enough of that in the old land, and they could put Pongo on that ridiculous idea for all she cared. Sentimentality had no place in economic decisions, especially when restructuring the money used in town would take so much of her time and energy, when she was so tired. A Midsummer barbecue in the park, that happened to feature red, white and blue decorations, and fireworks, was fine. She'd stay awake for those, somehow. Restructuring their entire monetary system because some of them wanted to be independent from the country where they hid was a waste of her energy and she'd have to avoid it. 

She rested her hands on her belly, above her deep red panties, (one of Emma's favourite pairs) and stroked the slight roundness that only she and Emma saw. Sometimes she could still tell herself nothing was there, because it had been such a gradual change, but some of her trousers were tight enough to no longer button. Some of her dresses were uncomfortable and she'd already retired one pencil skirt, at least until she had time to alter it. 

Other than the relentless exhaustion that she seemed to share with Emma, pregnancy had become tolerable. Her body temperature had been reassuringly stable in the weeks since she and Emma had cast the joining spell. She'd been a little nauseated, but she could hide how she felt when she needed to and Emma had been right: ginger ale and crackers helped. Her breasts remained swollen and heavy, and had changed enough that most of her bras had already needed to be resized. Headaches like the brutal ones she'd suffered before the joining spell came rarely and sometimes, strangely, hit Emma instead. Even so, tentatively, hopefully: everything was fine. Mal promised the baby was perfectly healthy, as did Emma, and whenever Regina reached for their child with her magic, she responded: unformed and unaware, but strong, like a lighthouse flashing across the bay.

Emma emerged from the bathroom, breaking Regina's thoughts, wrapped in a towel that hung loose on her back. She dabbed some of the water out of her hair then used her fingers and magic to guide away the rest and dry her hair. Regina could have watched her all morning: running her fingers through her soft blonde hair. It fell on Emma's shoulders gently, familiar and warm like sunshine.   
  
Emma caught her staring, she dropped her towel onto the floor and advanced, grinning with wicked intent. Emma wrapped herself around her, her clean skin against Regina's. 

"We could be late," she teased, kissing Regina's neck. "You need to practice your speech."

"I thought I'd practiced my speech enough considering that I wrote the damn thing and already had it memorised?" Regina reminded her, mimicking Emma's mocking tone from yesterday. 

"I'm just trying to be helpful," Emma insisted. She stole a notecard and held it against her chest. "See? I can hold them up for you."

Using magic to fling the card back into the pile with the others, Regina kissed her hard enough to stop her protest. "We can't be late."

"We're going to be the only ones on time. The dragons will be late, the dwarves are always late--" Emma continued to complain as she got dressed. All of her clothes fit as they always had, and Regina couldn't help being a little jealous because Emma didn't have to wriggle into her jeans. 

Emma lifted Regina's dress, the vivid red one that Regina had set aside because it was tight. Studying Regina's figure, Emma altered it. The dress shivered, subtly, as if affected by a breeze that only hit it, then she handed it over. 

"Thank you." 

"I've been practicing," Emma said, beaming with pride. "Henry keeps growing out of his jeans."

Regina joined her sigh. "He's so tall."

"I know." Emma moved to zip up the red dress, her fingers gentle on Regina's back and even more so when they moved her hair out of the way. She kissed the back of her neck, and they could have stayed. She could have taken Emma right out of her clothes and pressed her to the bed. Emma knew it, and grinned before she slipped out of reach. 

"We're going to be late." 

* * *

 

Of course, they ended up being way too early. Henry had been roped in by Ruby, Granny and Lily to help with the food, and they were still setting up in a big tent when Regina and Emma arrived. The rest of the town trickled in to complete various tasks: the dwarves making sure the barbeque was hot and the beer tent was ready, the fairies fussing with streamers and bunting, and Cruella and Ursula putting the beer tent to shame with an elaborate tavern that they brought into existence with magic on the edge of the park. 

Emma couldn't help smiling as the line for ale, gin and tonic, and rum punch curled around the tavern, even though it was barely past noon. The rules had been different in the old world, she'd seen them put out beer with breakfast, and still, it made her raise her eyebrows. 

Ursula brought her a drink, something that glimmered red but turned to blue if she stirred it. She handed Regina something equally elaborate, and Emma watched Regina do that little tap of her finger that took the alcohol (or caffeine) out of whatever she was drinking. Ursula knew, but maybe they didn't worry about alcohol and pregnancy under the sea. 

Henry carried over potato salad for them to try, because he'd added more mustard to the recipe and they hugged him together, making him blush. 

"It's good, kid," Emma said, licking her spoon. 

Regina rubbed his shoulder. "Thank you for helping."

"Lily and Red made it fun," he said, tilting his head back towards them. He lowered his voice and looked at them conspiratorially. "Even if they won't stop flirting." 

"What?" Emma asked, almost dropping her spoon. Lily was so shy, and Ruby- well, that had been cursed Ruby- Red was different. 

Regina's eyes ran over the two young women where they cut watermelon together near the picnic tables. She had the same appraising look that she saved for teachers of Henry's who might not be good enough, and all of his project partners. 

Emma took her hand and squeezed it. "Wonder what Mal thinks?" she whispered. 

Henry waved cheerfully at Archie, who'd arrived in an outrageously striped red, white and blue waistcoat, and hurried off to tell him about the potato salad, or maybe the spinach and kale thing that was way too healthy. Regina's eyes followed him before they went back to Lily and Red. 

"I don't know. It's just flirting..." Regina trailed off. "It seems distinctly unfair that I have three children all in such different phases of life. I'll barely have figured out what Lily needs before Henry's driving--"

Emma didn't mention that David's lessons had already taken care of that, however illegally. They'd promised to only use the very back roads. 

"And baby-fish figures out how to walk." Emma meant to tease her, but her voice softened so much that Regina looked at her, curious. "I never saw that, I mean, I remember Henry toddling across the room and holding my fingers, but I never saw that, not really."

"This time, you will." Regina was so rarely the voice of optimism that Emma's soft smile turned into a very bright grin. 

"Yeah." 

Regina moved close to her, leaning in so close that her lips almost touched Emma's ear. "But you have to stop calling her that." 

"What? Baby-fish?" 

"Our child is not a sea creature," Regina corrected her, pulling away to glare properly at Emma. 

Shrugging, Emma stole a glance at Regina's belly, wishing she could touch her. Touching Regina's belly grounded her, reminded her that what was most precious was safe.  "Maybe we should ask Henry, he's good at naming things."

Rolling her eyes, Regina glanced over at their son. "Anything he comes up with can't be worse than baby-fish," she muttered. Emma nudged her and beamed, because today was a happy day. Celebrations that didn't get ruined were rare, and she wanted to keep this one intact if she could. 

Snow waved at Emma with a bright smile that grew steadily more shy the longer it took for Emma to return it. Regina gave her a very pointed look, and Emma waved because it made the look go away. Regina didn't have to remind her to be nice, because Emma remembered. 

"Come on," Regina said, "after we talk to your parents we can go find out what Red's intentions are towards my daughter." That hint of firm disapproval made Emma beam, and talking to her parents for however long she had to would be a acceptable because she got to watch the conversation that came after it. Not that dragons or werewolves needed that much protecting from each other, or that Mal wouldn't have given Red some kind of deeply caring threat, but Regina being mom was one of Emma's favourite aspects of her personality, and Lily needed it. She'd been alone, been lost, and having her moms involved in her love life would be annoying, but kind of nice. 

She couldn't think that about her own parents yet, but overbearing moms was a long way from parents who took a baby and still didn't see it as wrong. Regina wanted Emma to make peace, to get past her emotions, but she couldn't, not yet. The vivid pain of letting Henry go, still flashed through her some nights, and Emma had done that willingly, to give him a life. Losing Lily when Mal had wanted her so much was more pain than Emma could fathom, and her parents had done that, without apology or regret. She wouldn't get over that, not yet.

* * *

 

The first potion she tried to drink stung, like drinking coffee too fast, but Lily was fireproof. At least, that was what she kept telling herself as the array of highly flammable, explosive potions grew around them. Mom loved fireworks, and had nearly begged Regina to be allowed to run the display for the party. Lily hadn't known that her mom could be as excited as a kid when it came to anything, but fireworks, she adored. 

She'd planned for days, collected potions and components, lining them up on the end of the dock so they could fire them off over the bay. At least, Lily had thought that was the likely plan. In reality, they were drinking the strange smelling liquids in dragon form then flying up to spit fire in various shapes and colours. Mom had just gone to get something, some kind of silverleaf that was the last ingredient in the grand finale. Lily stared at the barrels, wondering if she had a sense of taste in her other form. Some of them smelled pretty weird and she didn't want to know what the glowing ones tasted like at all. 

Apparently dragons couldn't be poisoned, at least, that was what the book said, but it was difficult to base her understanding of her other form off of an old children's book that was mostly written in old English.  She poked the last barrel, Mom's grand finale, with a wooden spoon and it hissed and flashed colours, even without heat. It was supposed to be thrilling, and Mom was just so excited about it. It stunk though, like gunpowder and cinnamon and it was such an odd combination.

"Hello Lily," the Blue Fairy said, startling Lily away from the barrel. What was her name again: Rule-something? Did everyone just call her Blue? Did she want to be called Mother Superior, because she still dressed like a nun. "I didn't mean to startle you, I've brought a component for your fireworks from the convent garden." She held out a bunch of dried herbs, that smelled sweet, almost like licorice. 

"What is it?" Lily asked, then chided herself for being rude. "Sorry, I mean thanks."

"It's no trouble, child," the Blue Fairy said, smiling as sweet as her herbs. "I believe your mother was looking for silverleaf?"

"She was," Lily answered, relieved that Mom would have her grand finale. She'd be thrilled. "I'll let her know that we have some, thanks again."

The Blue Fairy handed over the herbs and nodded, her expression as calm as a winter pond. "Excellent. Can't wait for the show." 

"Thanks again, Mom's been looking for this for days."

Nodding and bidding the Blue Fairy goodbye, Lily send her mother a message on the phone she never used, even though she had it, and it was a nice one. Mal appeared a moment later, because she never replied except in person. Lily was half-convinced that she didn't understand the buttons and didn't want to ask. 

"You found it?" Mal asked, reaching for the herbs to sniff them. 

"The Blue Fairy- Mother-"

"Reul Ghorm," Mal said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "How quaint."

"She seemed nice," Lily replied, watching Mal tear the leaves from the stem and crush them into the last two barrels. Sparks flew just from the addition of a few leaves and Mal stirred them in with a wave of her hand. Lily used the spoon in her barrel, but Mom didn't do things that way. 

"I'm sure she did," Mom said, finishing the spell and losing her annoyed expression. "Ah well, what matters is that she had the silverleaf and now we're ready, not a moment too soon." She gestured towards the setting sun over the hills behind Storybrooke and the magic street lights that Mom loved so much had already come on for the night.  "Will you inform Regina that we're ready?" 

Lily sent that text, even though she stared at her mother's pocket and her own phone. "Sure."

Mal ignored Lily's look, the way she always did, and stood watching the sky darken. "It'll be a night to remember," she said. "I haven't gotten to run a full show like this in centuries," she continued, her voice full of wonder. "And I've never had help."

"I still don't think I can roll like you want me to," Lily said, but the warmth of her mom's smile was hard to ignore. She was just so happy and part of that was because Lily was here, Emma, Regina and Henry were safe, and Mom's nest was secure. Lily wasn't sure how long Mom had lived alone, but it must have been longer than she liked, or wanted, because now, surrounded by people, she glowed with joy. 

"You'll be fantastic," Mal promised, drawing Lily in close to hug her. "I know it." 

When the darkness was deep enough, they transformed, leaving their tiny human bodies behind and becoming dragons. Mal said this was her true form, that the human was just a vessel she inhabited. Lily wasn't sure, because shapeshifting was weird, and she wasn't good at it, and it didn't make any sense, but when Lily was the dragon, she was brave. Her scales fit the way no clothing ever had, and she moved easier, like she knew her skin better. Her claws were sharp, yet capable of such delicate movements, and her wings--  When she flew, she was home. She rose into the sky beside her mother, following her wingbeats as they gained enough altitude for the first fireworks. The first barrel hadn't been that bad, just a hint of sulphur, and Lily could still taste it in the back of her throat. Luckily, this form was less picky about what she drank, and part of her, it must have been the genetic memory thing, knew that when she breathed fire, it would wreath outward, bright yellow. 

When she dropped, spinning beside her mother, that flame became a spiral around her and the cries of the crowd carried upward. Her dragon heart knew that they loved it, that she was worthy of every moment of awe, because the dragon didn't doubt. Lily let that carry her and drank the next barrel. The crimson tasted like molasses, and the blue had the funniest aftertaste, like grape bubblegum. Mom did the more complicated aerial maneuvers, letting Lily carry the easier part of the tricks. Together, they painted the sky with light and colour, raining beauty down on the crowd below. 

Landing beside her mother, she picked up the barrel in her claws, and nodded before she downed it. It really did taste like licorice, which was almost a pleasant surprise after the rest of the barrels. Mom said something in that rumbling dragon-speak, but Lily didn't hear it, or understand, before darkness deeper than night took her and dragged her down. 

* * *

 

"Is that it?" Emma asked, nudging Regina as if she'd fallen asleep. 

"I thought Mal had a finale planned," Regina said, nudging Emma back a little harder because she was awake.

Emma sat up from the blanket, immediately missing the weight of Regina against her shoulder. She could have stayed there all night. Everyone else had started moving, gathering their things. Regina flicked the street lights around the park back on with a wave of her hand, and in the light she looked worried. 

"Mal said she'd been working on a finale, she'd been looking for the last herb for days. Something silver," Regina said, rubbing her forehead. 

"Maybe she couldn't find it?" Henry said, walking up to the them. He'd taken a blanket a short distance away, because he was just a little too cool for his moms. 

"I don't know." Regina searched the crowd, resting her hands on her hips. "Are they back?"

Emma and Henry looked as well. Regina had a point. Emma couldn't picture Mal willingly passing up an opportunity to be (deservedly) adored for all the hard work she'd put into her fireworks. Lily was shy, but it would be good for her to see how happy everyone was, even without a finale. 

"I don't see them," Henry said and Emma nodded. They weren't in the crowd, and if they'd teleported, they'd be right in front of them. 

Leaving the blanket on the grass, she reached for Regina.  "What is it?"

"They should be here," Regina said. She tried to smile and failed. "Mal never passes up an opportunity."

"I know," Emma agreed. "Maybe something went wrong with the finale?"

"That we would have seen," Regina said, turning her eyes towards the docks and the sea. 

"Henry-"

"Stay here," Henry finished for them. "I'll stay with Red, okay?"

Regina found Emma's hand and they teleported together, wrapped in Regina's familiar purple smoke. They appeared on the dock, surrounded by empty barrels that still sparkled with the remnants of firework potions. Regina brought a light to her hand and Emma followed suit, she still didn't see anything. Mal and Lily weren't--

They floated, side by side in the sea. Both dragons lay in the water, like sleeping whales. The last two barrels, which must have been Mal's finale, floated empty beside them. 

"No!" Regina called, running to the edge of the dock. For a moment, Emma thought she was going to jump in, coat and clothes and all, but instead she lifted them, dragging them up from the water. The strain of it vibrated through Emma, as if she were doing the spell as well, and she added her strength, steadying Regina's magic as they brought the dragons out of the sea. Bringing them to the beach by the pier took enough energy that Emma panted, and Regina caught her for balance. 

On the sand, the two dragons lay beside each other, their breath steaming in the faint light. 

"What's wrong?" Emma said. Regina started to run before she had her breath back. Emma chased her and when they stopped she wasn't sure which one of them was dizzy. 

"They're asleep," Regina said, reaching for Mal's dark hide. Emma dropped her hands to Lily, and Regina was right, Lily's breathing was slow and even. 

"What happened? Why are they asleep?" 

Shaking her head, Regina knelt in the sand beside Mal's muzzle. She brushed her hand against her nose, frowning. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. It's like they fell asleep in midair."

When she pulled her hand away, Emma noticed the dark blood smeared against the and rushed to her. "Regina--"

"Dragons are heavy," Regina promised, sticking her hand into her pocket. "It's nothing."

Digging into her own pocket, Emma pulled out one of the paper napkins from dinner. "Here. You should have waited for me to help."

"You did help," Regina reminded her, holding the paper against her nose. The bleeding continued soaking into the napkin. "Nosebleeds are perfectly normal."

Emma brushed her fingers against the bridge of Regina's nose, picturing the tiny blood vessels healing. A light flashed between them, warm and golden, and Regina shut her eyes. 

"Thanks." 

When Regina wasn't bleeding, Emma could concentrate on the sleeping dragons. "Is it some kind of poison? Did Mal pick the wrong herb or something?"

"She wouldn't," Regina insisted. "She knows them too well."

"Even here?" Emma asked and Regina's glare suggested that yes, even here, Mal wouldn't have accidentally poisoned herself and their daughter. "Something else," Emma pondered, resting her hand on Regina's shoulder. "Would anyone want to hurt them or put them to sleep?"

Regina stood, waving her hands and bringing both barrels out of the ocean to rest at her feet. The wood smelled only of seawater to Emma, but Regina made it sparkle for a moment. 

"Sleeping curse," she said, her eyes darkening with despair. "A powerful one. Someone put it in the last barrel so they consumed it willingly." 

"But why put Mal and Lily to sleep? What's the point?" Emma brushed sand from her knees and stood, putting a hand on Regina's back. "I don't understand."

"We need to get back to Henry," Regina said, and fear made her voice crack. "If something took the dragons out--"

Emma didn't even take the time to tell her they'd be okay before she teleported them back; her bright smoke scooped them up and took them back to Henry. 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mal and Lily are trapped together in the Netherworld while Regina, Emma and the rest of the family try to figure out how to bring them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last update. I moved, I got a new job, started a new university, crashed on sofas, found an apartment, and tried to remember how to live in the US again. It's been wild.
> 
> I think I'm in a good place now, so fingers crossed that updates should be more regular. Thank you for your patience and support, especially those who sent messages of encouragement, that meant the world to me.

"Mom?"

Fire roared around her, nearly drowning out the small voice beside her. The fire even lapped at her feet, her arms, but it didn't matter. Even cursed fire could do nothing to her. Fire was part of her nature.

Lily didn't know that, or maybe she can't believe. Snatching her hand back from the fire, she held it to her chest, desperately checking for injuries. Mal reached for her, grabbed her wrist and then pulled her in tight to her chest.

"It can't burn you," she promised. Lily resisted, pulling back, trying to get away and Mal's heart ached. She wouldn't hold her against her will, but she needed Lily not to panic, to be still so they can work this out.

Licking at their feet, the fire surged around them, but it was a pitiful blaze and couldn't hurt them. Cursed fire couldn't hurt dragons, but Lily hadn’t grown up with her. Lily had been with humans, who taught her to be afraid. Mal couldn't protect her from her fear and nothing about her can make her immune to that.

"It's all right," she whispered, over and over, to the child she never held when she was small. Lily held herself rigid, but softened in her arms.

"Is this real?" Lily asked, as if Mal too was part of the nightmare. She didn't pull away, and Mal's heart relaxed a little.

"We're cursed," Mal said, dragging her eyes from Lily's face to search the room. "Sleeping curses send the cursed souls here, this is the netherworld."

"So you know about this place?"

"I never intended to be here myself," Mal answered, studying the endless mirrors of fire. "I have sent people here."

Pulling her hands from Mal's back, Lily shuddered but didn't pull away from the fire. It lapped at her feet, hungry and impotent. She didn't believe, but she'd listened. She held one hand against her chest and fidgeted with her sleeve. "You did?"

Mal held her hand towards Lily, offering her fingers. "I am the scary dragon bitch."

"Right." Lily squeezed her hand when she took it, smiling a little at Mal's fingers. "So, we're cursed. How do we get out? Do we get out?"

Sighing with enough force that the flames fled her vicinity, Mal met Lily's dark eyes and thought of Regina. What would she do, faced with two sleeping dragons and no conceivable way of waking them? True love was ephemeral and wearily defined. Sometimes it was sacrifice, sometimes pure determination, and though Mal had no doubt that they were both loved by their little nest, she had no way of knowing how that would fit into the rules of the spell.

"True love's kiss," Mal answered, wishing she had something more concrete.

Lily furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. "Like with Snow White and Charming in the book?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Looking past Lily's head, Mal calculated the size of the room. Even if she could shift into dragon form, her other body would barely fit inside of the burning little cube. Fantasizing about smashing the room to pieces made her smile, but it was unlikely that that would be the outcome.

"So we're here until someone kisses us?" Lily took a step, but stopped, unwilling to break the connection of their hands. She looked over the mirrored wall, suppressing a shudder. "You don't have some long lost true love out there?"

"My true love is in here, dear, and though I appreciate the company, it makes it more complicated to get out." Mal took a step towards the wall, taking Lily with her to search the limits of their prison. They followed the glass, ignoring the fire. Mal ran her hand through it, toying with it. The flaming curtains were overdone, completely tacky, and yet somehow indestructible as the fire continued to burn.

Lily walked with her, staying by her side. She looked across shyly, meeting Mal's gaze before looking away. "I'm your true love?"

"You're my daughter."

"That's how it worked for Henry, Emma and Regina," Lily said, stopping them in the corner. She stared at the curtain, losing her train of thought. "This isn't burning up."

Mal lifted the hideous curtain and nodded. "It is burning, but it will not burn up. A shame, really."

"Time doesn't pass here, does it? The curtains keep burning, and we just--" Lily dropped Mal's hand and reached for the curtain, taking it even though the fire. Her fingers hesitated only for a moment before they took the cloth alongside Mal's hand. "We just stay here?"

"Regina, Emma and Henry will work something out," Mal promised, turning the velvet in her hand so Lily could see how it continued to burn without scorching or turning to ash. "Our nest is creative."

"Can Regina kiss me, and then I could kiss you? She's my mom too, would that work?"

Mal dropped the curtain and touched Lily's shoulder. "Perhaps that is what they will try. Perhaps someone will drop in and speak to us."

Lily stopped playing with the curtain. "We get visitors in purgatory?"

"The Netherworld, and yes. Anyone who's been here before visits again in their dreams, sometimes they don't remember, or they won't be aware of it." Mal tugged the curtain aside to study at the wall, just to make sure there weren't any weakness that she had missed.  It was smooth glass brick, perfect in the way it only could be through magic.

"So we're stuck here, indefinitely, where time's not passing, and we might get people who see us but don't remember we're here?" Lily looked at the curtain one more time then tugged it down. Fire and velvet crashed around them and it kept burning, and not burning, in a heap on the floor.  "Sorry."

"Pull down the rest," Mal suggested, folding her arms over her chest. "It improves the decor."

* * *

 

"So we don't get hungry?" Lily asked, leaning back against a heap of burning curtains. With them all down in the center of the room, the walls were less ominous, only featureless glass brick that reflected the fire behind them.

"Or tired, or thirsty," Mal answered, unraveling the edge of the curtain and watching the curse put it back together again. "The Netherworld isn't a world, it's just a place between, a holding place. Years could have gone by."

Lily sat up, turning to her, surprised. "Years? But Emma and Regina, the baby--"

"I doubt years have truly passed," Mal promised her. "It's possible, but somewhat unlikely. We were cursed in the middle of a fireworks show and landed in the lake, in dragon form. That's not easy to miss."

Pondering that, Lily sat up, staring at her hands. "So they know, and they just haven't saved us yet?"

"They will save us."

"I know," Lily agreed, finding a tiny smile. "It's just--"

Sliding across the floor, Mal put an arm around her shoulder. "We will be rescued, of that I have no doubt. Emma and Regina will save us."

"Is that weird for you? My other mom and, well, I guess my step-mom coming to save us."

Mal chuckled, then patted Lily's knee. "I don't think it's wise to complain about being saved, in whatever form it comes."

Lily watched her hand, then looked up, the fire reflecting in her eyes. "But is it weird?"

"Weird in what way?"

"You loved Regina-" Lily started and Mal nodded.

Might as well pass the time letting Lily find out everything they hadn't had time for before. "I love her still."

"But, she's with Emma now."

"And they're happy," Mal promised her, and stretched. She lay back, listening to the firey curtains crackle behind her head. "I loved Regina, and we made you. I don't begrudge her happiness with Emma."

Lily leaned over her, still full of questions. "Is that a dragon thing? Because I've totally been jealous, and I--"

"It's most likely to be more jealous in nature, I just never found that useful."

Continuing to question, Lily coaxed stories of Regina in her youth, and how she'd learned magic. For all the time they'd lost, together they had time in abundance, and there was nothing else to do. Lily told Mal of her first kiss, and how she'd spent some much time tracing the lines of her face on paper because it would never leave her thoughts.

Mal confessed her own dreams of raising Lily, teaching her to fly, and how to control her magic. She'd had a whole life for them in her mind, and not having her, had never crossed her thoughts. Dragon children were sturdy, not delicate like human babies. No childhood disease could have taken Lily from her. Lily should have been hers, and they would have been happy. They could have crossed realms, flew across oceans and mountains. The world would have been theirs entirely. Perhaps, someday, she would have even met Regina and known her mother.

Yet that was not to be. That world would not have had Emma be who she was, or Henry, or helped Regina out of her darkness. Mal would not surrender any credit to faith, for those she loved were extraordinary of their own making, not because fate had drawn them so. This timeline, however cruel, had let her daughter make wonders of herself, and Mal would not regret that. Time had been taken, but they'd been given this strange half-life and they filled it with stories.

Lily kept stopping, needing to explain things of the outside world, and she had just paused to explain that everyone had to have a piece of plastic that allowed them to drive a car (which sounded terribly tedious) but that she'd struggled to get hers, and her foster mom (one of the good ones), had been trying to teach her--

Aurora appeared, shimmering in her pink pajamas, standing before them, cowering from the fire. They only saw her for an instant, half a breath, before she was gone again. Lily got to her feet, reaching for her, but she had disappeared.

"Was that-?"

"That's Aurora dreaming," Mal said, smiling up at the featureless ceiling that hid the real world. "We'll might even see her again, if she remembers that she saw us."

"But the fire, won't it hurt her?"

Conceding that Lily was right with a nod, Mal helped her drag the burning curtains to the far corner and they stood together in the middle of the room, studying the flames that came from nowhere.  "We'll push them back."

"Push them back?"

"It's cursed fire, dear, it's not even real. You and I, we are fire. We can bend this to our will."

"Maybe yours," Lily muttered, staring at her feet. She lifted her hands to meet her mother's, but her shoulders remained hunched.

"Our will, Lily, is much stronger than mine alone. This fire, is nothing. It can't even burn you. It's so weak that it doesn't even deserve to exist here, with us. We can send it away, to the nothingness that brought it into being." Between their fingertips, magic crackled, far louder than the fire. "Look at me," Mal suggested, and Lily raised her eyes. "We can clear the fire."

"What will it do to the room?" Lily's magic began to surge with Mal's, growing in strength between them.

"Let's find out." After such a long time, or no time, with nothing to do, driving the fire away made warmth rise in her chest. Challenges existed to be conquered, to be driven back, and this would help protect those who came to save them.

The fire resisted for a moment, growing in strength as if it could match them, then it snapped. It turned to smoke and ash, and those damn curtains lay in a heap, wisps of smoke rising from them. The smoke stank, as if it had long been left, forgotten.

"We did it," Lily said, surprise giving way to pride. "The fire's gone."

"Instead of a burning room, we have a smoking one," Mal said, eyeing the smudged glass around them. "Should be less dangerous, at least."

* * *

 

Their next visitor didn't have to hide his face in his hands, and Henry remained just long enough to smile at them both before he vanished. Lily demanded to know why he'd been so quick to disappear, and Mal couldn't explain. She'd thought it would be longer, but each sleeping curse had slightly different rules, or perhaps something Regina and Emma were using to protect him kept him from staying long.

Henry came again, this time staying just long enough to hug Mal and promise that they were working on it. She held the scent of him in her memory against the smoke. Lily came to her side once he disappeared again and snuggled up. The curtains still tried to flare up occasionally, but that could easily be put out with a wave of either of their hands. The Netherworld sulked, and the bricks around them were black and soot coated. Lily constantly had soot on her face, but she allowed Mal to wipe it off with a smile.

They waited together, telling stories that they'd never meant to tell, as the mundane became all they had left to discuss. Lily even told stories of her earliest memories, of her first efforts in school and how terrible she'd been with the crayons. They always seemed to melt when she tried too hard.

"Maleficent?" The voice that broke their moment wasn't Henry, nor Aurora, but Snow White, who stood before them, insubstantial as the smoke rising from the floor. "Lily?"

"We're here," Mal replied, standing to face her. "What's happening?"

"Emma and Regina are trying to save you. True love's kiss didn't work, and-"

Mal turned, because Snow's expression had become so mournful. Lily- sweet Lily- had her lips set firm but her chin trembled.

"It's my fault-"

"No," Mal said.

"No, no," Snow echoed. "Regina thought it was her fault, that she didn't know you well enough. It took us a long time to calm her down when she couldn't save you."

Lily nodded, the weakest of bobs of her head, but she didn't believe. Mal reached for her, taking her eyes off of Snow, who fluttered- faded- flickered like dying fire.

"I--" And she was gone.

Lily didn't speak, but she let Mal hold her, and they stood, untiring, unmoving, in the room of smoke and glass.

"Just because a curse has a weird definition of love doesn't mean there's anything wrong with either of you. True love changes on the understanding of the caster, their intention. It's not your fault, never your fault. Either of you." Mal whispered into her hair, stroking Lily's head until she sighed, and the tension faded from her neck.

"Is Regina okay?"

"She's with Emma and Henry, and Snow White and her Charming care for her, she's looked after."

Looking at her for answers, Lily shook her head. "I don't get it. It worked for Emma and Henry--"

"Different caster. Regina's attempt to curse Emma was to keep her from their son. She cast it out of fear and selfishness. Parenting a child is unselfish, and requires bravery, so that broke Regina's curse. When I cursed Aurora, I was jealous and spiteful, so innocence and faith undid that curse. There's no way of knowing what was in the heart of who cursed us," she paused, and smiled, because Lily was so brave. "Sometimes love is patience, or sacrifice. We won't know until it works."

Lily shuddered, then nodded, trying to return her smile. "I always wanted to talk to you."

"Hopefully you won't be exhausted of talking to me," Mal teased, sitting down and patting the floor beside her. "Tell me about Red."

"What?" Lily's eyes grew wide. "There's nothing--"

"You know that we have nothing to do but talk in here and I can wait years for you to answer," Mal promised, tracing a finger through the ash on the floor. The fire threatened to restart again and she flicked it away. "She's kind?"

"Yeah," and then Lily's smile had a light to it. "She laughs."

"You don't laugh often," Mal mused.

Lily paced, stuffing her hands into her pockets.  "It's easier to be quiet."

"But are you?"

Stopping, Lily moved her feet through the ash, drawing patterns. "I guess."

Mal let the silence fill the little room, and Lily walked a while before she settled down on the floor next to her.

"I don't know. It's easier not to be noticed, not to cause trouble."

Tapping her daughter's shoe, Mal drew her gaze. "You aren't trouble."

"I was," Lily insisted. "I had so many psychiatrists, and counselors and therapists. No one could ever fix me."

Mal bit back all of her regret and focused on Lily, now, with her. "And you wanted to be fixed?"

"I wanted to be like the other kids and know my parents were my parents, and trust that, and be happy, because they were happy. They went home happy and ran into their houses and--" Lily's long hair fell across her face and she moved it aside.

"You can run into the house all you want," Mal offered, trying to decide why that was important. "Using magic would be faster and I don't see why you wouldn't want to do that."

Lily started to giggle, then laugh, because she found some part of that funny. Later, she tried to explain, but several attempts at that pass before she gave up.

* * *

 

"How much time has passed?" Lily asked, tossing her feet up against the wall. She lay there, staring at the ceiling while her legs rested against the glass bricks. "Why is it so hard for them to know how long we've been here?"

"They have little control over their dreams," Mal replied, arranging lazy patterns in the stained curtains by moving the velvet with her fingertips. Their visitors were sporadic, and often couldn't come into focus, as if the connection between this part of the Netherworld was behind something that's trying to keep them away. It was almost cold without the fire, weak as it was.

"Are they okay?" Lily dropped her legs and lay on the floor, hands on her stomach. "Henry and Snow are always so worried."

"They're in the Netherworld, it's not a pleasant place. Both of them were trapped here, for what would have felt like an eternity to them. They may not have the memories, but they know."

"Sometimes you just know," Lily agreed. She lifted some of the ash into the air, spinning it over her head in a lazy spiral. She'd been nervous at first, afraid to use her magic, but now, she fidgeted with it as if it were paper. The ash responded, becoming a flower, then growing steadily more intricate and complex as Lily moved it in the air.

She held it just long enough to Snow White to notice and forget all about the message she needed to convey. "That's beautiful," Snow said, stopping before she grew too close to Lily.

Mal stood, putting herself between them while Lily's flower of ash rained to the floor as dust. "Isn't it?" she said, beaming with pride.

"I didn't know you could do magic in here." Snow moved her gaze quickly from Lily to her mother, as if she sensed it was uncomfortable for her eyes to linger. "And the fire?"

"We caused it to cease," Mal said. Waving her hand over the curtains lying in a pile, she smiled for Snow. "Amongst other improvements. Red is an accent color, not the base of an aesthetic."

That made Snow smile, but the light was slow to reach her eyes, and her flesh was etched dark beneath them. "The leogryff attacked the fairies' convent last night. Blue fought it off, but--"

"It's just going to come back," Lily finished, her tone grave. She didn't understand the ways of fairies or what they kept hidden.

"Blue used the Black Wand, she wouldn't have, not if she had another way," Snow stumbled over her words, looking from Lily to Mal.

"But she didn't," Mal assisted her. Of course, Rheul Gorm would have made it that way. Now she held the Black Fairy' wand and no one would stop her. "Let me guess, the leogryff is pale, even white, and shrugs off Emma and Regina's magic like water."

Snow blinked and nodded, giving Mal her full attention. "How did you know?"

Mal knew what had happened, she could see it, as if she'd planned it herself. It was clever, she had to give that blue star star-witch that. Her anger twisting in her stomach like ropes of molten metal. She should have seen it, realised what was happening when the creatures adapted each time they were defeated.

Looking to Mal for succor, Snow took a step towards her. "How can they stop it?"

Mal nodded, but she didn't have time to explain. "When the leogryff returns, cast protection spells on the town, but nothing at it directly. Ask Cruella to destroy it. Get her close enough to the creature and it'll do her bidding. Have her tentacled girlfriend drown it, or Cruella can throw it off a cliff. "

That made Snow smile, just a little, then she flickered and vanished, dragged back to the world above.

* * *

 

Emma nuzzled the back of her neck, then tightened her arms around her. "That was your phone."

Shifting Emma's hand so it rested on her belly in a more comfortable place, Regina blinked and started to reach for her phone, forcing herself awake. "Snow must have seen Mal in her dreams."

Reaching around her, Emma grabbed Regina's phone from bedside the bed. The sudden light stung Regina's eyes in the darkness. "Mal says we need Cruella to defeat the leogryff thing. Her powers will work on that?"

"They'd work-" Regina yawned, fighting to finish her sentence, "-on Mal, in dragon form, so it should work on him. Damn."

"Why didn't we think of that before?" Emma muttered, then tossed Regina's phone aside, leaving it on the table. She curled back around Regina, spooning up close.

They'd tried fireballs, blasts of magic, even lightning, because together, they were capable of incredible strength. Especially together, they were usually enough to defeat one creature. This one however, was especially resistant to their magic, and needed the sanctimonious Blue Fairy and the Black Fairy's wand to be driven back. Was she going to have to be renamed for mixing her colors? "We were distracted, Mal has nothing but time to think," Regina reminded her.

"Yeah." Emma's tone softened. "Snow says she's okay. Lily too."

Even though she knew all the reason it was not her fault that they couldn't wake Lily, she winced, because Lily was her daughter, and true love's kiss had worked with Henry. It should have worked. Her shoulders tensed, and the moment she pulled away, Emma held her tighter.

"Hey, none of that."

"What?"

"You know what," Emma said. One of her hands slipped up across Regina's belly and stopped near her chest, waiting for Regina to take it. When their fingers met, Emma squeezed hers and tugged it in close against her breasts. "They're okay, and we'll bring them back."

"We should already have been able to--"

"True love's kiss is shit, you know that right?" Emma interrupted. "It's totally unreliable, works when the stupid author decides it should work, and makes no sense. You love Lily, and she knows that. Lily and Mal are okay, they're trapped, but they're okay. We'll get them out"

Something shifted in her belly, almost uncomfortable, maybe a cramp, but she couldn't be sure. It kept happening, so maybe it was a muscle thing. She squirmed and Emma kissed her shoulder.

"We'll get them out."

Rolling onto her back, she turned her head to look at Emma in the dark. "Okay."

Emma kissed her, her lips soft and warm. Regina moved towards her, finding comfort. She relaxed into Emma, some of the tension ebbed from her back. That weird pulling sensation in her stomach stayed, and she rubbed it, wishing it away. Emma's hand followed hers and when she met Emma's gaze again, her eyes were soft with concern.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

Emma only had to look at her before Regina amended.

"Something weird," she admitted.

Emma kissed her cheek.  "Weird how? Muscles again?"

"No." She held Emma's hand against her belly and sighed, nearly yawning. "It's not tugging. It's--"

Regina's phone chirped again and Emma took her hand away to grab it. She read the message over Regina's head, then returned to her on the pillows. Her gentle smile only grew as she stared at Regina.

Emma stroked her cheek; her hand cool. "Snow wanted to apologise for waking you, and make sure you were okay."

A few weeks ago, that would have made Emma so angry, but she'd been softening.  Snow was an intolerable worrier, and she fussed over Regina whenever she had the opportunity. Perhaps it was because she'd never had the chance to worry about Emma when she was pregnant, or maybe it was their strange relationship morphing again into something else.

"I'm okay," she answered. Her own voice was so small in the dark, and Emma smiled.

"That's what I told her. She likes to worry." Emma settled back into the blankets and cuddled in close. "So how long have you had this weird not-pulling thing?"

"A week, I think," Regina trailed off. She couldn't remember when it started, because it had been so faint at first. Since her knees ached, and her hips, it didn't make any sense to categorize them all. Parts of her hurt with regularity, and she got through it. This though, seemed to require her attention in some way and she was to tired to work it out.

"And it moves around, it's in different places, kind of comes and goes?" Emma continued, somehow managing to be pleased with herself.

"Yes," she answered, waiting for Emma's brilliant reveal. Even though she'd promised to read some of the pregnancy articles they'd gotten from the internet, Regina was certain she hadn't even lifted them from the pile. They had been busy, so she forgave Emma for that, but just because she'd pregnant once, fifteen years ago, didn't mean she was an expert.

"Go back to sleep," Emma suggested, pulling her in so they spooned together.

She wanted to argue, to insist that Emma tell her now, but the warmth of her body was too soothing, and she was always only moments from falling asleep.

* * *

 

The heavy book creaked as Belle opened it, resisting the sharing of its secrets. Regina sat back, giving Snow and Henry space to look over her shoulders.

Bell pointed to the ancient sketch of a group of winged lions, all different shades, some pitch black and some bright white. "This is what Maleficent must have been referring to. The leogryff is a proud creature and can ignore types of magic contrary to what created it. A leogryff made by dark magic can resist magic that's opposed to it. It resists light magic. Madame Mayor, you and the Sheriff are very powerful, but you're noble, you're good. A pale leogryff, like the one that attacked the convent, needs dark magic to be repelled."

"Or a dragon," Regina muttered, glancing over her shoulder at the window to the square. They'd brought the dragons close, to the yard beside city hall, where they could be watched. She'd wanted them even closer to home, but Mulan and Belle had argued successfully that they were Storybrooke's protectors, and should not be forgotten. Even Aurora had agreed, which would make Mal smile when she knew.

Snow rubbed her shoulder, because she knew. "So Blue can hold the pale leogryff back using the Black Fairy's wand. We don't know much about her, but she was as dark as they come, wasn't she?"

Henry and Belle shared a look. Belle nodded, but her expression became grim. "We don't know how long Blue will be able to use the wand. Fairy magic is usually powered by fairy dust, and until we come up with an alternate method--" Belle looked at the window behind Regina, her attention drawn to the sleeping dragons. Her lips thinned, and her eyes turned wistful. Did she miss them? How much time had she been spending with Mal?

"I think it's most prudent if we focus on waking the dragons and take Maleficent's suggestion and ask Cruella for help with the creature," Bell finished. "Perhaps she'll be interested in its coat."

Regina smirked, because that was almost funny, Cruella prancing around town in a new lion skin coat. "It's likely."

"How do we wake them?" Snow brought them back to the dragons and looked to Henry. "Did you find anything in Maleficent's spell book?"

Henry nodded, opening his notebook. "I don't read dragon, and no dictionaries exist, so some of the runes I can't make out. Luckily, I've been able to come up with a basic translation based on the images and the runes that are less obscure. Breaking a sleeping curse with true love's kiss is about the kind of love that will counteract the caster's intent when they cast the curse. Unconditional love, like a parent for their child, is usually enough-"

She tried to hold her face steady, not to react. He was going to attempt to protect her, to say something that would attempt to soften the blow. She didn't love Lily well enough, or unselfishly enough to wake her up. Everyone knew it, but no one would say it.

Snow squeezed her shoulder, trying to calm her, and Henry stopped, mid explanation.

"Mom, it's not your fault."

"Emma's love for you was enough to break the curse on the entire town," she reminded him. Emma hadn't even wanted to stay with him then. She'd been willing to leave and visit him. "I should be able to wake her. Lily is my daughter."

"I know," he replied.

Henry set down his notebook and looked at her, his eyes full of patience and faith. He believed, even if she didn't. He always did.

"I think this curse is more complicated because the caster is highly skilled in magic. Someone who knows how to alter the essence of a spell. Whoever they are, they wove it tightly enough that we'll need something that costs more than the love for a child."

"How can love have a cost?" Snow asked. Her hand stayed on Regina's shoulder and the ache in her chest eased because of that hand's warmth and weight.

"It'll be some kind of love sharper than family, maybe the love of a stranger, or an enemy. Maybe If I could spend some time in the Netherworld with Mal--" Henry looked away before he brought his gaze to bear.

"That's not going to happen." Regina had tried to keep him from that place, because it had terrified him so before. Now he wanted to go, and even though Snow said without the fire it was just a dark room. she still didn't want him to slip into that place.

Henry shrugged with the same 'I'm nearly an adult' expression he had so often. "I'll keep researching. Cora was less interested in breaking curses than casting them, but I should be able to find something by cross-referencing their books."

"What's important is that it can be broken, and we'll find a way," Belle added, smiling at Henry so that her whole face seemed lit. That kind of optimism was a luxury Regina couldn't allow herself, but she forced a smile in return, for Snow and Henry.

"We will," Henry added, seeing through her smile. "We've got this, Mom."

Pushing out of her chair, she circled the desk and hugged him, because she needed to hold him. Henry hugged her back, and allowed her to hold him without pulling back.

"I know you do, and I'm grateful, Emma and I both are--"

"They're my family too," Henry reminded her. "And I miss them."

Belle nodded, holding her book to her chest. "Me too."

Regina thanked them again, and Belle and Henry left together, returning to the corner of the library that had become their web of notes and stash of old books. Snow remained, sitting on the edge of the desk as Regina returned to her chair. That thing, the half-hearted- what was it? some kind of stomach problem she could add to nausea? It was over in a moment, and she tried to forget it, before it happened again, and again.

"Regina?"

Protesting that she was fine did nothing, even when she was fine, so she didn't make the effort.

"It's a muscle, I  think," she answered, sitting back in her chair. "It happened last night too."

"It just gets stranger when your body's not yours anymore." Snow continued to look down at her, still smiling with the same gentle intensity. "Have you stopped feeling sick? Emma said your temperature was up again after you two fought the leogryff."

A litany of complaints regarding the unfairness of the two of them teaming up against her died in Regina's throat. Emma had talked to her mother, without Regina as a buffer between them, maybe even without Henry. Emma hadn't mentioned it, but the thought that their relationship might have been beginning to mend made it easier to smile.

"That wasn't anything like it was before. I don't think she should have worried at all." Picking up her pen, Regina tried to demonstrate her desire to return to the paperwork she'd set aside when Belle had arrived with her discovery. "An elevated temperature can be quite normal at this stage of pregnancy."

Snow lifted her paperweight and turned it in her hands. Fighting the urge to snatch it back and return it to its place, Regina started to read over the dwarves' report on the mines.

"Do your books say anything about what's normal for a baby conceived by the magic of two powerful women who might have been touched by dragon fire?"

Rolling her eyes, Regina set down her pen. "No book covers that."

"And I know how much that must frighten you." Snow looked up from the smooth glass in her hands. "I want you to know that I'm here, if you're trying to protect Emma, or if you just want to complain about how much your feet hurt."

Regina stared at the woman before her, remembering the child, and how she'd spoken of how much she loved her like a sister. When had her much hated little 'sister' become the woman who smiled at her now?

"Thank you."

"Of course," Snow answered, beaming. "This is my grandchild, you know."

This baby would always know her as that. She wouldn't have any cursed memories of Mary Margaret Blanchard, the teacher who loved birds, she'd only know her grandmother: Snow White, the hero. Regina tried to picture Snow holding their baby, talking to Emma about teething rings and block puzzles, and sharing this experience. Mal would argue with both of them, and Henry would find the answer online. Lily would hold her sister, and that imagine stuck in her thoughts. Lily would be so good with her sister, so kind and creative. Like Henry, this baby would be the center of many loving faces, safe and protected. 

Regina held the pen so tightly than her hand ached, so she forced herself to set it down. "I know." 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma deals with the leogryff with Cruella and Ursula, Snow visits the Netherworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hadn't tried Snow's POV before, but it seemed to work. posting this shorter chapter in hopes that it helps me get over my stress and move towards the climax. (which we're on the road too now!)

Ursula dragged the leogryff beneath the water with little effort. It only took two tentacles and she sighed from the water. Emma stood above it, on the pier, watching the big stupid cat sink beneath the dark sea. She shouldn't feel sorry for it. It killed Whale and Spencer, but it's eyes weren't evil. It had big, round gold eyes that stared at her in panic as it struggled to breathe and began to fail.

It's dumb. It's a thrashing, brainless beast and it fought against the tentacles Emma knew were like iron. Its heavy feathers dragged it down and those bright, stupid eyes met Emma's.

"Stop."

Cruella raised her eyebrows. "It's almost over, dear."

"It's stupid, isn't it?"

"Dreadfully so," Cruella agreed, studying her nails. "Didn't stop it from killing."

Emma looked to Ursula, because she'll understand. "It's not inherently evil though, right? Like the beetles, and the harpies."

Ursula and the huge, wet, stupid cat with wings teleported out of the sea and land on the pier next to Cruella and Emma. Ursula held the cat tight and it shivered instead of fighting to escape. It's thick wings must be too heavy for it to fly and its eyes flit from one point to another in panic. She held it tight and it wasn't going anywhere, but Emma wanted to let it go.

"It's not an inherently evil creature, no," Ursula clarified for her. "The beatles are cursed things, harpies too. This, anyone could summon."

"Inherently evil?" Emma repeated, rubbing the headache starting to form in her forehead.

"Harpies and devouring beatles take a certain amount of talent, an unknown quantity of-" Cruella paused, grinning, "well, evil, darling. Someone who knew how to have a good time with their own darkness brought those two into existence. This- this is a stupid beast that killed those two men because someone controlled it. It's embarrassingly easy to do so. You could probably get into its head."

Emma's head throbbed in response and she let the last comment go. "Why would someone who summoned the first two plagues  of Storybrooke summon this thing?"

As if it knew that it wasn't going to be killed, the big wet cat stopped struggling and Ursula's grip relaxed so that its breath isn't labored. It doesn't deserve this death.

Ursula shrugged and the tip of one of her tentacle moved thoughtfully. She was fidgeting and Emma got that, but it's still a tentacle and she had to repress a shudder again, because--

"They could have run out of their power source," Ursula said after a moment, saving Emma from her thoughts. "I don't know how much you've been told about the so-called balance between good and evil."

Emma sighed, because somehow between Peter Pan, the Snow Queen, Maleficent nearly dying and trying to find Lily and Regina being feverish and throwing up and-- "Not a lot," Emma admitted. She should check in. Regina was probably still at the office, not home, and she'd need to be reminded to go home.

Cruella grinned at that, and finally put the cat-thing out of its misery. "Sleep, beast."

Its eyes closed and Emma's stomach stopped lurching into her throat.

Ursula pulled back her tentacles and they disappear beneath her dress. "Good, on the most basic level, is altruistic, unselfish; putting others before yourself. Save a dog from drowning, that's good. 'Good' magic is similar. Healing magic, protective magic, magic that builds cities and roads: all good. Animals are simpler, because they're driven by instinct and what keeps them alive. "

"Which keeps them from being as dreadfully dull as heroes," Cruella muttered, stroking her fur coat. She paced the pier, and Emma couldn't help wondering if she's disappointed that she won't get a lion skin coat.

"Humans and other creatures with intelligence have a choice, most fall in the middle. A few things are truly evil, because they've been made to cause pain, or they feed on suffering. The beetles are the embodiment of taking more than your share, fear of running out, kind of an old world famine thing. They eat, everything, and when you come from a place that doesn't have double cluck combos, that's about as evil as you can get." Ursula looked out over the sea for a moment, then back to Emma. "Harpies cause pain and suffering, they take what isn't theirs, and they're fireproof, which is why our summoner must have brought them when she failed with the beetles."

"But this thing--"

"Is a big dumb beast who's no more evil than Pongo," Cruella finished for Emma. She fluffed her coat on her shoulders and sniffed. "They smell about the same."  

Ursula took more time, mulling it over while she stared out at the sea. "The only thing that I can think of is that summoning the beetles, and the harpies, would have required darkness. Some like you, for example, can't just bring them into this world. You'd need a focus, something dark."

"The Dark One's dagger is locked away," Emma said. She shifted her weight, the heavy summer air damp around her.

"Not like that, more like--" Ursula broke off, shaking her head. "A sacrifice, an evil act, I don't know."

And the unspoken truth that Maleficent would know went unsaid, as if all three of them had agreed. Even Cruella seemed to miss her, in her own, unique way.

"I can command the feline to stay away from town, if you're still set and keeping it alive."

"Please," Emma asked, and the weight slipped from her shoulders. She couldn't kill it, and that was okay. "Thanks."

"You owe me a coat," Cruella said, blowing her magic across the sleeping creature. "Maybe two."

"Done," Emma agreed. Maybe Cruella could learn to like fabrics that weren't exotic leather.

Ursula's eyes were still out over the ocean and Emma had already thanked her and started to think of Regina before she whipped her head around to look at Emma.

"It's a protector."

Emma's feet had already started to turn to smoke and she stopped, almost stumbling even though she hadn't moved. "What?"

"The leogryff. It's a lion and an eagle, it's supposed to be a protector. Whoever summoned it must have told it that Whale and Spencer were dangerous, and I suppose, maybe, they were."

"They were rude, entitled--" Emma stopped, because what they were to Regina didn't matter, even though it did, because of Regina.

"Yes, yes, but that's not-" Ursula's gaze was so intense that Emma was almost sure it burned. "If she, he, whoever our summoner is, ran out of whatever power let them summon the beetles and the harpies, she could have gotten the leogryff easier, because it's a protective creature. Anyone can get those. They're kind of good, that way. Not in an intelligent way, of course, but-"

"Good, I got it," Emma agreed. "Okay, so that means?"

"I don't know," Ursula finished with a shrug. "I am sorry."

"No, no, that's, it's helpful, it's not like anyone else knows any more, and you came out in the middle of the night to help me not kill the leogryff, and that was--"

"We miss her too," Cruella cut Emma off. For once, there was no bite to her tone, no hidden sarcasm.

Emma smiled, weary, spent, and grateful. She nodded to them both. "We'll get them back." Then she teleported away to Regina.

* * *

 

Regina wasn't at her desk, and if the lights had been off, Emma almost could have believed that she'd gone home, but old books still covered her desk. Regina would have put them away, so she wasn't home yet. Emma lingered behind her desk, looking at the ancient etchings, committed to paper. The wastebasket by Regina's feet was filled with tissues and Emma only had to open one drawer to find the nearly empty box they'd come from.

Where had she gone? Outside? Talking to Mal and Lily sometimes made her feel better, sometimes worse because No matter how much she loved her daughter, no kiss would wake her.  

Emma's phone buzzed and she took it from her pocket.

Henry, ever responsible, announced that he was going to bed and they should to, especially considering that both of them had to work tomorrow, while he did not have school. Smirking at her phone, Emma headed out of Regina's office, because maybe she'd just stepped to the bathroom, or gone outside to talk to Mal and Lily. She talked to them often, because she missed them both, and her guilt weighed on her. True love was an esoteric, obnoxious thing that only worked when it wanted to, and there was no realm in existence where Regina did not love Mal and Lily, but it wasn't enough.

And that hurt. She knew how Regina felt. Not being good enough haunted them both. They were family, and that was supposed to be enough. It had been enough with Henry, and Emma hadn't known him that long. Not really. She'd known of him, but that seemed an unfair requirement, because Regina hadn't known about Lily, and if she had--

Emma nearly walked past the bathroom on autopilot, but the doorknob turned, and the hinges creaked. Emma's feet stopped on the smooth floor. Regina emerged from behind the door, wrapped in a thick cardigan, not her suit coat. Her eyes were reddened, and her nose, and when she looked at Emma, her chin trembled, even though she must have retreated to the bathroom to stop crying.

"Hey-" Emma began, and then Regina was in her arms, warm against her. "Hey," Emma repeated, rubbing her shoulders. All the things she could have said were stupid. It wasn't okay, of course and she'd had another awful day, like yesterday, and the day before, where she knew her daughter and Maleficent were out there and she couldn't save either of them.

The sleeping curse seemed stable for the last weeks, but Henry had been only asleep until he started to die. Mal and Lily were dragons, and maybe that made them stronger, but every time she watched past them she couldn't breathe until she was sure that they were still breathing.

"I missed you," Emma whispered, because that was true without being some kind of empty platitude. Even if it sounded stupid.

Regina didn't seem to think so, because she almost nodded, holding Emma just a little closer, barely moving her head on Emma's shoulder. Between them, the strange, soft-hard roundness of her belly pressed against Emma's own. She smiled, just a little, because in the middle of all of the never-ending chaos and peril that was their lives, they had hope.

"I've been here." Regina's voice was muffled by Emma's neck and Emma could have taken them home right that second, but Regina would want the books put away.

"I know," Emma replied, and she kissed Regina's cheek when she lifted her face. Her head throbbed again, her headache threatening to drill its way forward from the back of her skull. She tried to shake it off, because maybe it wasn't hers. If Regina's head hurt this much, they were going home immediately, books be damned. "Does your head hurt?"

"A little," Regina admitted, and her warm fingertips brushed across Emma's temple. She studied Emma for a moment, then she wrinkled her nose, just a little. "But I doubt my headache is bothering you."

Kissing her again, Emma nodded. "Must be my turn." What had been an annoying sort of twingeing, now vibrated with the brighter lights of the office.

Regina closed and arranged her books with quick hands, then returned to Emma, reaching for her fingers. "The leogryff?"

"Banished," Emma said. Regina started to speak, and she teleported them back mid-thought because she wasn't about to have this discussion in the office. It was time to be home.

"Not dead?" Regina asked when they stood in the entryway. She put her hands on her hips, but the gentleness on her face made that sweet, rather than confrontation. "Not that I think either of them was any real loss, but it did kill Whale, and King George, so it could be dangerous. What made you change your mind?"

Emma slipped off her boots, then retreated to the study. Whiskey wasn't the traditional headache treatment, but this one had all the ridiculous escalation of pain of a magic-related headache, and those didn't follow any of the rules. She hadn't even used any powerful magic. She'd only needed to be bait for Ursula and Cruella, who'd done all the heavy lifting. She'd stood on a pier and decided not to kill a big, stupid cat with feathers. She held the whiskey in her mouth so it could sting her tongue, then swallowed it.

Regina stood over her for a moment, then sat beside her on the sofa, her hand on Emma's arm. "Are you okay?"

"It was just this big dumb cat thing. I'm not even a cat person, but when we finally caught it, Ursula dragged it down so it could drown, and it's stupid eyes were so--"

"Most of the griffin hybrids aren't known for their intelligence," Regina agreed. She patted her arm, and her hand rested on Emma's bare skin. "Any ideas who was controlling it?"

Emma shook her head and finished her whiskey, swallowing it quickly this time. She poured some more and stared into her glass, even though there weren't any answers in the amber liquid. "Ursula said something strange, about how summoning the leogryff must have been easier."

"It's a protective creature, anyone could have summoned it.The spell's not demanding, provided you're in danger of some kind." Regina stared towards the window, lost in thought. Emma rested the glass against her forehead and watched Regina's other hand stroke her belly. She was so careful in public, as if her pregnancy was some gift that she didn't deserve, but at home, things were different.

"Same muscle?" Emma asked, drawing Regina's attention back.

"It changes places," Regina said, confusion and wonder taking her expression. "I can't figure out--" and she trailed off. "Did Ursula mention the cost of summing the dark creatures? The beetles and the harpies?"

Nodding made the pain in her head spike, but Emma realised that after she moved. Which figured. Whiskey would start to take the edges off in a moment. There wasn't some kind of miracle cure for these kinds of headaches; even migraine meds didn't help. They had something to do with magic, but Emma had barely touched hers, neither had Regina. So this was unfair and kind out of the blue, which made her more resentful.

"She said they had a dark cost, so some kind of sacrifice, or pain, whatever our mysterious summoner decided to use."

Regina's fingers ran up the back of Emma's neck, warm against her skin and it helped ease the rushing in her head, at least until Emma recognized how warm her hands must have been to feel like that. Setting down her whiskey, she turned, taking Regina's hands into her own and kissing them.

"I'm okay," Regina insisted, before Emma could say anything. "It's just the same old fever."

"Which should have gone away," Emma muttered, staring at their hands instead of Regina's all-too-dark eyes. "That was the whole point of binding."

"It's better than it was," Regina said, coaxing a smile out of her. "So much better. I can handle a little fever. The vomiting and exhaustion were much worse. You made those go away."

Emma started to complain that time, not her had made those symptoms fade, but there was no way of knowing that was true. Regina kissed her this time, and her mouth left a hot spot on Emma's cheek.

"I'm all right," she promised and the sincerity of it made Emma's heart ache. "I'd rather have my fever than your headache."

Rubbing her temples, Emma smirked. Somehow the pain had gotten all the way down into her teeth. Was something coming? Was she just sick? Now would not be the time, but she ached. "Good choice."

"You should drink water," Regina said, leaving Emma on the sofa.

"I don't like it when the whiskey gets diluted," Emma quipped to herself. She finished the glass before Regina returned to force water into her.

"Drink this, then we're going to bed."

Resting her chin in her hands, Emma looked up, then accepted the glass. Regina had one for herself, which meant she'd be up in a few hours, but she'd read enough articles about pregnancy to be serious about staying hydrated, and she always snuggled closer when she came back to bed. Water had that funny aftertaste where it seemed too sweet and too wet after the bite of the whiskey.

Rubbing her shoulder, Regina sat back down next to her and Emma could worry no more about dark sacrifices, or protecting beasts. Her head hurt, and all she wanted was their bed, and Regina.

* * *

 

David's breath echoed in her ears, slow and even, and Neal snored just a little in his bed, almost like a puppy. Both of their breathing quieted, faded, and for half a moment, quiet darkness took her, then it opened into the familiar, ashen underworld.

Lily jumped when she appeared, she often did, and Mal's hand moved quickly to touch her, reassuring her. How many dreams had become with that same set of motions?

Snow held up her hands, smiling to help Lily relax. "Just me."

"Sorry," Lily muttered, but it had so much less bitterness than Snow deserved.

"I always feel like I'm invading when I come here," Snow confessed, half-joking. She did disturb the peace of whatever they were talking about each time she appeared. Did it bother them? How did time pass when you were here with someone else? She remembered her own time in the burning hell that this room had been as unending, but if she'd had Emma, would she have minded?

Mal barely had to touch Lily to get her to calm. She smiled back at Snow's weak joke, and then Lily smiled, and that nagging sensation that they had something Snow and Emma hadn't been able to work out tugged at her chest. Lily had nothing to forgive Maleficent for. Her mother had fought for her, clung to her and looked for her with all of her strength. She hadn't just sent her away.

"We don't mind the company," Mal said, and her smile had the warmth of a cat in the sunshine. "Do we, dear?"

"She will run out of stories, eventually," Lily said. Her own smile held to her lips like the last hints of fog in the morning, ready to burn away in a moment. "But so far, I've learned so much about my history that I'm running out of wall space."

"Wall space?" Snow repeated, turning around. The heavy glass bricks behind her had been scratched, covered with intricate names in a script she didn't recognize. At least, not until she walked closer. She had seen those kind of scratches melding into words. "This is dragon script, isn't it?"

"It's crude," Mal said, crossing her arms as she stood behind Snow. "The cursed walls of this place are remarkably resilient, but some things we bring with us are above the magic of this netherworld." She took something small and white from her pocket and turned it over in her fingers. "It seems dragons teeth leave a mark anywhere."

Snow peered closer to her mouth, wondering perversely if Mal had pulled one of her own teeth.

Lily smirked behind her head and Mal chuckled. She opened her mouth and showed Snow a space on the bottom left of her jaw. Her teeth looked normal, human, but the one in her hand was as sharp as the shark's tooth they had in the school library.  

"When I'm out of here, it'll grow back," Mal explained. "And we couldn't keep it all straight without writing it down."

Snow didn't ask how she'd gotten it out of her mouth, and maybe she didn't want to know. Self-mutilation had occurred to her while she'd been trapped, and a few times she'd pushed the flames until she'd burned herself, just to feel something.  because time did not pass in this place).

Instead of speculating further about the handkerchief Mal tucked into her pocket and that the blood on it was still fresh (and likely to remain so, forever), Snow forced that out of her mind.

"There was writing like this in one of Cora's books. I saw it in her room."

Mal's eyes widened, and even Lily's face lit in surprise.

"Cora, Regina's mother. The one who--"

"Did all you've heard, and worse," Snow replied with a shudder. "She had this book, and I knew I wasn't supposed to touch any of her things, but I loved to read, and she had so many books. That one had the strangest leather. It almost sparkled, and whenever I touched it-"

Mal put both of her hands firmly in her pockets and her lips thinned. "It was warm."

Something cold crawled down Snow's neck. "What was it?"

"Dragonhide never loses its warmth, even when it has been long separated from its owner." Mal didn't look away. Lily made a noise of disgust and stared at the floor, but Mal held Snow's eyes. Snow expected anger, even loathing, but instead she saw sorrow.

"Cora didn't, I mean she couldn't have--"

Taking her hand from her pocket, Mal fidgeted with her crumpled handkerchief. It left blood on her fingers, but she did not seem to notice. "Cora did not kill a dragon; she would have been far more powerful if she had. She had the book of a dragonslayer, and that would have been written in our script, because it's the only true way to record our names."

"Why did she have it?" Lily asked, and Mal turned to her.

She shrugged, still toying with her handkerchief. "Cora wanted power, and killing a dragon is a very good way to achieve power, beyond what most can dream about. The heart of a dragon--"

Maleficent stopped, as if someone, or something, had taken hold of her. She jerked where she stood, shaking as if she'd been grabbed by a huge hand. Lily's cry of alarm cut through Snow's ears as if she were her own daughter crying out in pain. Light, so pale blue that it glowed sick and hungry, erupted from Maleficent's chest, reaching out with grasping fingers. That light wrapped around her body, sealing her away, and then she was gone.

Snow's ears rang from the sudden change in pressure, and she stared at Lily's horrified face.

"What happened? Is she awake? Is she free?" Lily paced, then advanced on Snow, staring her down with her eyes starting to glow. She probably couldn't be a dragon here, not in this place, but the force of her presence weighed on Snow, as if Lily were many times larger than she was. "Where's my mother?"

She didn't know magic, and Lily probably only knew a fraction of what Emma and Regina did. Curses didn't end like that. That had been wrong. She didn't know how, or why, but the sudden violence of Mal's departure had none of the warmth of true love. Snow took a step towards Lily and her bare foot stood on something sharp and sticky. Cursing, she hopped, lifting her foot. Maleficent's tooth lay wrapped in her handkerchief on the floor, dropped when she vanished. Kneeling to pick it up, Snow had only an eternity for Lily's terrified face to burn into her memory before she was gone.

* * *

 

"Snow--" David repeated, shaking her awake. "You screamed."

"Lily," Snow said, unable to concentrate on him. "She's all alone." Her pyjamas clung to her skin, sticky with sweat. Something stung her hand. She sat up, reaching for the light with her other hand.

"You were dreaming."

"I was in the netherworld, I saw Lily, and Maleficent, and something- David, something bad happened to her. There was a light, and-"

Beside their bed, both of their phones buzzed angrily. David turned to them and Snow looked at her hand, because whatever hurt now throbbed, like a red hot coal against her palm.

"It's--"

"Emma," Snow finished for him. It had been real. Henry must have felt it, because he'd been to the Netherworld, and Emma, and Regina-- They had to get to her. "We have to go."

"It's the middle of the night."

Shoving the blankets away, Snow pushed herself off the bed and the forgotten sharpness against her palm went slick with blood. Staring at her unharmed palm, she finally recognised the handkerchief, and the blood that filled it. Wrapped in Maleficent's handkerchief, her tooth rested in Snow's hand, warm, even separated from her body. Lifting it up, Snow stared at the razor's edge on the tooth.

David tried to shake sleep from himself, dragging his body up to a sitting position. "What's that?"

"A dragon's tooth," Snow answered, carefully wrapping it in the bloody handkerchief, which too was warm. "It's complicated. David, we have to help them."

Nodding, he grabbed a t-shirt, then pulled it on. "I'll grab Neal's diaper bag. Hopefully he'll sleep in the car seat."

She didn't reply to him, and instead grabbed her phone to read what Emma had sent.

**Mal's body gone. Emergency. Meet at the house.**

Emma knew. Regina must have had some kind of spell or perhaps they had been able to feel what had happened. Whatever it was, this was bad. She knew that in the pit of her stomach, and the hard heat of Mal's tooth in her hand only magnified her feeling of dread.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow and David arrive to help, Emma and Regina have to say goodbye for awhile. Emma faces down the Summoner at last.

His grandparents didn't knock when they arrived. Henry doesn't know how they knew the door would be open, and they came right in. Grandma went right past him, heading for the stairs.

"Are they all right?"

"Mom and Emma had nightmares like mine, and Emma thinks Mom's fever is back, but her magic's gone weird. I don't know how to help them." He crossed his arms over his chest. He'd gotten so used to having Mal to ask about magic, but she was gone, really gone this time, and his mother's don't know what to do, because something's wrong. Really wrong, and was written on Mom's face and in Emma's eyes.

Grandpa patted his shoulder, then shut the door, holding Neal asleep in his carseat. He set him down in the living room, leaving him to sleep. "So they're both pretty upset, huh?"

"They've been arguing since I woke up." He tried to keep his expression level, but Grandpa read through him.

"Snow woke up screaming too."

Henry kept his eyes up, wanting to keep looking at his face. He was calm, and that helped, because his moms were both so upset. "I saw the dragon, Mal's dragon, but it wasn't hers. Something else had her, and she's--"

"We'll get her back," Grandpa promised, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Once he's close to him, Henry noticed that beneath his coat, Grandpa's in his pajamas. He leaned closer, because the hot dragon's breath (blue, why was it blue?) still burnt his cheek. He should be past this, too old, strong like his mother, but he woke up to Mom screaming and that rang in his ears.

"We'll get them both back," Grandpa whispered, and he remembered waiting for Emma and Snow by the well, wondering if they'd really come back or if Cora would climb from there and kill them all.

He wasn't the kid he'd been then, but he hadn't heard Mom scream like that, and Emma wasn't herself. She wasn't her; her eyes were so wrong.

The hug helped, making him safe against the cool leather of his grandfather's jacket. His grandparents are heroes, after all, and maybe they can help, even if They're not really the ones who would They took Lily, maybe they have to be the ones to bring her back, because Mom needed her, and Mal. They were family. They're all family, and perhaps this was drawing them in, bringing them together for the final fight.

Grandpa patted his back. "Let's make hot chocolate, and maybe something to eat. It seems like everyone's going to be up for awhile."

"Let's make it better?" He followed him into the kitchen, yawning and covering his mouth with his hand.

"As much as we can," Grandpa agreed. "We will find Maleficent, because that's what we do. All of us, especially your mothers. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Henry said, finally managing to smile. "Kind of the family thing."  

* * *

 

Emma paced, and Regina almost expected her feet to click on the floor, the way Mal's always did. Her boots still had dew from the grass where Mal was supposed to be, and Emma walked back and forth, her lips tracing words that she wasn't saying aloud.

Mal was missing. The desperate, gasping, nightmare that they'd shared, of ice-blue flames and crumbling pavement and grass, echoed in her memory. She couldn't remember all of it, neither can Emma, but it resonated, cold and ominous, and it's nearly as bad as the way Emma can't hold still. There was so much tension and rage, like Mal when she was in one of her moods, that Regina wanted to grab Emma and soothe her, but Emma's past that.

Emma began and didn't finish a hundred questions that Regina couldn't answer. The door creaked downstairs and Regina got to her feet,but Emma caught her, guiding her down.

"Henry's got it."

"They might be able to help us, Snow--"

"Was with Mal," Emma finished for her. She nodded, filing that away. She touched Regina cheek again and frowned. "You're worse."

"It's not me," Regina protested, even though that made no sense. This fever was different, somehow alien, misplaced, and she couldn't explain that.

"It's not?" Emma replied, dropping to a crouch in front of her. "I can smell it on you, like a stain."

This wasn't Emma either, at least, not the heart of her. "Since when are you so fond of your sense of smell?"

"It's--"

"Dragonfire," Regina reminded her, leaning close. "Whatever's happening to Mal, it's stirring everything up, destabilizing all kinds of magic. If Lily were awake--" she stopped, because that hurt. Lily should be here, safe and warm and helping them find her mother.

Emma nuzzled her, and it wasn't a kiss, not a human one. The burning was hers, Regina decided, kissing her cheek. Emma vibrated with the strength of the dragon and they need it, desperately, because Mal shouldn't be missing.

Yet she was, and Lily slept on, which meant her mind was still trapped down below. And she was alone, again. That rattled into her chest and remained there, aching each time she breathed. Lilu had been safe, in a way with, Mal. Snow and Henry said they weren't going mad, that they'd put out the fire in the underworld. At least they'd been together, and now--

Her stomach twisted, maybe it was that pain that wasn't, or perhaps a recursion of her nausea. She didn't have time to think about it, even when Emma turned, attracted the presence at the door as if it was a threat before Snow was even there.

"I saw her disappear," Snow said, announcing her arrival. She took in Emma, reading the fire and wincing, just a little before she crossed to Regina.

"She couldn't have just vanished," Emma said, resuming her path from one side of the room to the other.

"Unless she's awake," Snow reminded them.

Her stomach twisted , rocking as if she were trapped at sea. She swallowed but it wasn't not nausea, not entirely. Snow's hand hovered then touched her forehead. She snatched it away, concern bright on her face before she brought back her touch.

"Regina--" her concern made her voice low and soft. Snow sat on the bed beside her, taking her hand and wrapping it in hers. "Does anything hurt? Do you have any cramping?"

She hadn't even- it hadn't- she couldn't--

"Emma--" her name was a plea because she needed her, she couldn't talk to Snow about that, think about that without Emma. Not now that everything should have been fine. They'd performed that spell, given up their autonomy, surrendered. That should have been enough.

"The baby's all right," Emma promised, kissing her forehead. The heat of her lips was greater than Regina skin, and she made the words so sure, so certain. "I'd sense it," she continued, patting their hands.

The icy grip of panic softened, only a little, and Emma sat beside her, holding her, but she wasn't- Emma wasn't-- The scent of brimstone clung to her, and the otherness remained in her voice because this was her Emma, and not.

"The baby was touched by fire, dragon fire," Emma paused, and Regina heard Mal. not her, but almost, in Emma's words. "Dragon magic is burning,, so she can't help it."

"Is there a book, something we should read, a potion?" Snow scrambled for ways to help, and Regina continued to stare because Emma wasn't Emma, not wholly, because that calculating, protective dragon side had roared back after their nightmares.

"Trust me," she promised, and that was Emma, and Mal, and the other, the dragon who'd made the scar on Regina's neck. Her hand dropped to Regina's belly and the heat in her raced for that heat, revelling in it.

"Emma?" Snow asked, her eyes becoming white and wide. "Regina, what's happened to her?"

Regina clung to Emma's hand, holding it tight against her belly because she needed the baby, needed them both, to be okay. This fever was different than the last, the debilitating exhaustion was still absent, so she could carry this.  "Dragons are very protective of their own kind. Someone's hurt Maleficent, maybe even--" she stopped because she would not face that, not now, not ever, Mal would outlive them all by centuries.

"I won't let them," Emma finished, her voice a growl. She retreated from them, resuming her pacing, and now Regina recognized the words on her lips as dragon-speak. She probably didn't even know what she was saying.

Snow watched, silently trying to take that in. She touched Regina's shoulder, then put her arm around her, providing her support. "And Emma?"

Regina listened to Emma's feet but kept her gaze on Snow because she was calmer. "She took on much of the dragon to save Maleficent, months ago, and it stayed with her, it must have happened now because Mal's truly in danger, not just sleeping."

"So what can we do?"

Do? Regina repeated in her head. The darkness hung thick outside the windows, and she had been asleep less than half an hour ago and part of her ached to return to that, to put all of this aside, because she was tired.  Snow held her closer, stable and secure, and she didn't intend to put her head down, it was just so heavy, and then Snow rubbed her arm, soothing her. "What do you need? What does Emma need?"

"There was blood on the grass," Emma said, turning back to them. Her eyes flashed green-gold and Snow saw it, she had to, because she stiffened, startled. "I might be able to follow the blood, I can feel it."

"Blood?"

"Dragon blood is powerful," Regina said. That sensation shifted, moving with her like bubbles and she couldn't think.  

"How powerful?" Snow asked, turning her face back to Regina, because she made more sense.

"Depends on the dragon, someone like Mal, her age--" Regina sighed, breaking off. She shook her head. "I don't know how much you'd be able to get out of the grass, and it'll have started to dry."

"This hasn't," Snow said, digging in her pocket. She pulled something out, wrapped in her hand. "In the netherworld, last night, Mal was writing something on the wall. She said the cursed wall could be damaged with a dragon's tooth."

"A tooth?" Regina raised her eyebrows. "You have Mal's tooth?"

Snow nodded, cupping it in one of David's handkerchiefs, stained in blood. It hadn't dried. "She took it out to write with. She had to show Lily something about her family. Seemed kind of strange, but--"

"Give it to me," Emma said, pouncing on the handkerchief in her mother's hands.  

Regina stared at the tooth in Emma's hands. It was a dragon's tooth, much larger than that of a human. Mal must have let it revert to dragon form after it was out of her mouth. That was a powerful piece of magic for one trapped in the netherworld. "She took it out, in the netherworld, just like that?"

"Maybe she thought it was important," Snow said. She wiped her hands on her pajamas, and slowly returned one arm around Regina's back. "Was she trying to help us?'

"I don't see how she could have known that someone was going to take her," Regina answered, relaxing a little into Snow's arm. Had Mal suspected who the summoner was? Had she known who put her and Lily under the sleeping curse? She could have told Snow, or Henry, but she hadn't. She'd kept it to herself.

"She was trying so hard, for Lily, trying to keep her calm; make the waiting all right," Snow spoke almost more for herself, than for Emma. Emma had no time for them as she stared at the tooth, reaching into her magic. Tendrils of fire started to curl around it, reaching out and up to Emma's hands, caressing her wrists. Regina watched, silent and almost afraid because Emma's eyes became steadily more dragon, more other.

Snow kept talking about all the times she'd watched Lily and Mal in her dreams, and how gentle Mal was, how careful with her daughter and so protective. "I thought once that she was evil, a monster, and that if anyone had to lose her child, it should be her."

"But I was wrong," Snow finished, squeezing Regina a little and shaking tears out of her eyes. "Maleficent is a good mother, and she loves her daughter. She would have protected her the best she could, but now she's gone and Lily's all alone in there, her mother just vanished, ripped out of--" she stopped. "I have to go back."

"What?" Regina said, torn between forgiveness and pain. Lily shouldn't be alone, not again, not trapped like that.

"Lily's alone."

"Yes," Emma said, wrapping her hand around the tooth. The fire in her palm surged, glowing in the darkness until it was part of Emma, adding to her light. "Someone should be with Lily. You, or maybe Henry--"

Snow nodded, ready to pay her penance and take the place of the mother Lily had just lost, for a little while. "I can go under if you make the curse, David can wake me."

Regina shook her head, touched but appalled. "Your little prince needs you, remember? You can't leave him with David."

"I could," Snow argued, full of righteous desire for repentance. "Lily's all alone and you can't ask Henry, even if he is so mature."

"I'm her mother," Regina insisted, putting an end to Snow's arguments.

Stirred from her magical reverie, Emma fidgeted with the tooth in her hands, suddenly herself again, even though her eyes continued to glow green-gold. "She might be tougher than you think."

"Her mother was ripped away. She's been left again and I can't- I can't let that happen to her," Regina looked down, then up at Emma, who was hers again, though even the dragon-Emma was hers, this one was softer. "I'll be, Henry can wake me."

"I know," Emma said, kissing her forehead, then her cheek. "I'll miss you."

"Then save us," Regina said, half-teasing, but her voice caught in her throat. "Find Maleficent, free her, stop the summoner, find what we need to break Lily's curse."

"You're leaving me all the easy stuff," Emma said, pretending to sulk. Snow reached for her and their hands met and Emma didn't pull back. "I'll have mom and dad, and Henry, I guess I won't need you."

Regina found a smile, though even that made her eyes smart as if she was in the midst of a sandstorm. "Of course, you won't need me."

Emma kissed her lips this time and shutting her eyes almost made it all okay. They'd beat this, whoever, whatever this was, even if they had a dragon. "I always need you."

"Will the baby be all right?" Snow asked, looking between them when they broke apart. "Will the curse affect her?"

She'd never read anything about the effect of sleeping curses on an unborn child, but she was so young that she was already sleeping, surely. Regina held her belly with her hand, wishing she could be more confident. She wouldn't risk the baby for Lily, it wasn't that black and white, but Lily needed her. She'd been absent all of Lily's life and this time, in this moment, she could be with her.

"I'll be sleeping," Regina said, drawing on what optimism she could dredge up. "I do that a quite often already."

"Time won't pass while you're cursed," Snow reminded her. She knew little about magic, but sleeping curses she'd experienced first hand. "If it takes some time for Emma to free you--"

"Then I'll be pregnant longer than I hoped," Regina answered, taking both of their hands. "I have to do this. I can't risk Lily going mad in there by herself. She's been through enough. I trust you, I- I love you." And she said it to both, because even Emma couldn't save them alone.

"I'll give you a minute," Snow said, getting up to leave. "Then I'll come back and help Regina cast the curse." She left them alone.

Emma traced Regina's cheek. "Lily's lucky to have you."

"She just got me," Regina reminded her, shifting on the edge of the bed. Would this strange nudging follow her into the netherworld? Would she go mad herself not knowing what it was?

"Any time with you as her mother is good," Emma said, kneeling on the floor before her. "All of your children are pretty damn lucky."

She squirmed. She didn't mean to because Emma's eyes were on hers and this was the kind of moment where her heart was too near in her throat, but--

"You don't know what that is, do you?"

"What what is?"

Emma kissed both of her hands, then looked up, her face bright with wonder. "The baby's moving."

"Of course she moves, she can't just sit in there and knit."

Emma chuckled, or sighed, or perhaps both, because she dropped her head to Regina knees. "You can feel it, it's that weird pulling, pinching thing that's been driving you crazy."

"It's a muscle--"

"It's her muscles," Emma insisted. "I remember being so weirded out when Henry started to do that. I had nightmares about an alien thing in my stomach."

"But, Emma, she…"

"Is safe, and will be safe in the netherworld with you, I just wanted you to know, so you didn't worry."

"I always worry."

Emma's warm mouth covered hers, softening her concern. "I know."

* * *

 

When Emma held it in front of her, the tooth floated above her palm, wreathed in tendrils of flame. "Find Mal," she whispered in the speech that wasn't hers. They needed her, not just for Regina and Lily, but for the town.

David watched, silent and patient. They'd left Henry with Snow and Regina, telling him that Snow might need help with Neal, or Regina with the curse, and he should be there to say goodbye to his mother, if only for awhile. Emma didn't want to think about how long it would be. She never thought she'd have to face this summoner without Regina, but she might. She hadn't needed to be the lone savior, not with her family, her nest, so close.

But now she felt like the old days. Facing the unknown, in the dark. The first time she held a sword, she'd had to face Maleficent in that cave. This time, her sword is to save the very dragon she once killed. The tooth turned, more accurate than a compass, pulling, almost begging her to follow it through nothing, through the space between places, to Maleficent.

"Stay close," she said to her father, then took them through.

They stepped from the mist of teleporting and Mal sat there on the wet grass hill before them, looming like a statue. Her dragon form rose high over them, completely still.

"Mal?" Emma asked.

Nothing.

"Maleficent," she pressed, using the dragon-speech that burned in her throat.

Nothing.

Taking a step forward, then another, she ran her hand over Mal's foreleg. Her scales were warm and familiar, but she didn't move, didn't even blink. Her eyes stare straight ahead, empty.

"She's not in there," David said for them both. "Something has her heart."

"That should be impossible," Emma replied. "Dragon hearts are the most powerful magic thing I've ever read about. You can't just pull one out like you can from a human."

Only then, they looked around and took in where they are. The fairy's cloister was just behind Mal and she sat before it like a guard dog.

"The fairies?" David asked. "Why would they? Why would she be here?"

"Most of them have been living near the hospital," Emma said. "Only a few were still up here, maybe the summoner took over the cloister? Perhaps he needed something they had."

They mounted the steps, heading in behind Mal's unmoving form. Emma kept turning to look, praying Mal would move, that her tail would twitch, but she sat like death had already taken her.

The door hung smashed on its hinges, splinted scattered across the entryway. A thick coating of something grey covered the floor, and their footsteps stir it up like ash, or murk on the bottom of a lake. Maybe it's the dragon-senses that brought Emma the smell of lilies-of-the-valley, because the copper of blood and the sweet tang of rot were so strong that she couldn't have smelt it otherwise.

The fairies still living here were dead, scattered like dead wood and crushed petals. Their blue capes and dresses lie still beneath the ash. It swirls around their feet, carrying the remnants of magic.

David touched one of their necks, then another and he shook his head. "They're gone."

Emma bent over one of the bodies. The ash lay thickest over her chest, as if it had erupted there, along with the dried blood. The next she checked was the same. There are thirteen in all, each adding to the thick layer of ash. Their eyes have started to cloud over, and rigor mortis held their limbs taunt. Emma never thought she'd need to know what that meant.

"They'be been dead for a few hours, not long." None of it made sense. Why kill thirteen fairies when you had a dragon outside that could do it for you? Why have your dragon sit in front of a group of corpses when you had a whole town to destroy?

"Blue, she's here too!" David called, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Blue lay like the rest, her eyes staring straight at the ceiling. Her hands rested on her chest, covered in the same grey ash. Her eyes, however, were clear, and her fingers gave when Emma touched them.

"I don't think she's--"

And she sat up. Her hands fell away and no blood stained her clothes. Her fingers sank deep into the dust and her eyes land on Emma's,

"No, I'm not dead. Seemed that way for a moment though, didn't it?" She offered her hand to David, so he can help her up, and he did, because he's a prince.

The dragon part of Emma that had been so demanding since she woke, screamed in her head that this was wrong, that she should bite, claw, and burn Blue now before--

Blue took a breath, then shook the ash from her clothes. "Fairy dust, gets everywhere."

"I thought it was sparkly," Emma said. She dropped her hand to her sword but Blue's eyes caught her.

"It was," Blue answered. She threw back her shoulders, then centred herself. "It was sparkly and full of hope and utterly useless, just like them."

Magic rushed to Emma's palms, demanding to be free, to have its chance to save her before this went too far. Mal's tooth burned her palm, trying to pull her away, because this was not safe.

"Just like them?" David repeated. "What do you mean?"

"How useless is an entire species who can't even do magic without diamonds and belief? We have a whole race of workers bred just to keep us in dust, but here, well, the dwarves aren't even good for that." She tugged her coat, and the blue sweater beneath and they tore, revealing a simple black dress that pulled in the light like an oil slick. "Can't get good help anymore."

"You're not useless," David said, sounding so much like Snow. "You give people hope when they have none. You grant wishes."

Blue clucked her tongue. "Perhaps if you'd grown up a prince, you'd know that wishes are a curse. Wishing takes you away from the moment, makes you think that you can change your sorry, squalid existence, when really, all you have to look forward to is death in your thirties of a disease this world has a cure for." She left her other outfit behind and led them towards the altar.  "Did you ever heard about the Black Fairy?"

Every cell, every atom of Emma screamed that she should get back, get away, but when she tried to teleport, David didn't move. She tried again, and her feet disappeared, but David didn't even fade.

"I think you'll find he's stuck here until I release him, savior," Blue said. She took a heavy candlestick and cracked the glass case on the wall with a smash. "You are harder to control but he doesn't have a magical bone in his body. He's staying." Tossing shards of glass, she lifted the black fairy's wand and gave it a little flick through the air. Blue fire followed the tip. "Should I take your silence to mean that you know nothing of the Black Fairy?"

"What do you mean stuck?" David asked. Emma took a step forward, putting herself in between.

"The black fairy dabbled in dark magic, but went too far in, couldn't control herself."

"I should have joined her when I had the chance," Blue said, waving the wand again. "Of course, then I'd have to share this power, and I don't think I'm cut out for that. She used to spend entire nights talking about how fairies were such pushovers, granting wishes and feeding on the belief of humans like it was scraps they threw a favorite dog. Dragons and sorcerers cast magic on their own, from within them, but fairies depend on a constant supply of belief and fairy dust."

Holding the wand in front of her, Blue sighed and closed her eyes. "Until now, of course."

"All magic has a price," Emma reminded her. "Even that of dragons."

"That may be true, in the crudest sense, and besides, dear savior, I'm tired of the price being my dignity. Fairy dust confines us, when we could be free, like humans, or-"

"Dragons," Emma interrupted. It made sense, in the most perverse, twisted sort of way. Blue knew them, and their weaknesses. She must have found a spell, a way to remove Maleficent's heart. She couldn't have done it awake, so she'd put them to sleep, biding her time. Looking towards the window, Emma tried to catch sight of the moon. Was it dark tonight? Did a new moon hang over them?

"You did this, didn't you?" Emma asked, looking over the corpses surrounding them and the dust coating everything. "You took their what, energy? Souls?"

"I freed them," Blue said, looking over the bodies. "I can free you too. Save you from yourself and all the chaos and fear. You don't have to suffer through your magic, and the way it controls you."

"My magic doesn't control me," Emma protested, even though she knew no part of this conversation made any logical sense.

"Doesn't it? The dragon fire led you here, to me and Maleficent's empty shell because some part of the great dragon thinks you can save her."

"And she will," David answered, fearless at Emma's side. He should know to be afraid, but Emma couldn't say that.

Blue waved the black wand and light appeared before her, floating level with her chest. It spun like a star, rich and full of life. There was a shape too it, beneath all the light, but it was so bright that Emma couldn't even look at it.

"You're right to fear it," Blue said. "It's the heart of a mature dragon, potentially the most powerful relic in the all the realms."

"It's not yours," Emma protested and her magic cracked out, stirring the dust.

"It wasn't mine," Blue corrected. "I think you'll see that it's mine now." She waved the wand once more and they were gone, away, between, and then standing in City Hall, surrounded by the rest of Storybrooke. It was still the middle of the night and most of the town stood yawning, utterly confused. They'd been summoned to many midnight meetings, but this had dragged them all there with immediate effect.

"Citizens of Storybrooke, there are going to be some changes in town, and it's important you sit quietly while I explain them."

When the townsfolk dawdled, shuffling their feet or talking to their neighbors, Blue flicked her wand and fire snapped out like a whip.

"Now then," she said, once she had their attention. "Mayor Mills has resigned--"

Not even a whip of fire could contain that uproar, and Blue made the entire hall shake that time, just to get their attention. Snow and Regina appeared next, on the stage with Blue. Snow in her pajamas cradled Regina's unconscious form, stroking her hair. Snow startled at the abrupt change of scenery, and stared even more open-mouthed at Blue, who stood above them like a general claiming victory over a rival.

"She hasn't officially resigned, of course, but she's fallen victim to a sleeping curse, so she won't be doing any leading from below, since the way she held power was magic, and the dragon, I hereby submit myself for candidacy because I have the dragon. Any questions?"

Emma should have fought, or tried to calm everyone down. She could have taken Blue's wand, or teleported at least Henry away. Yet she sat in that room, staring at Regina, because she knew, in the darkest place of her heart, that this she cannot beat alone. She moved to Henry, taking advantage of the bedlam as Blue declared herself mayor. Henry too can't take his eyes off of her. She's all right and they know that, but Emma's never seen Regina lie like that and be unable to be woken. 

Blue used Mal to shake the building again and the townsfolk cowered in their seats. No display of power could be more terrifying than Regina's body, still in Snow's lap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue's the big bad, and this has kind of an abrupt transition, but hopefully I'll be able to illustrate more of her plan in later chapters, she's just been dying to take over for so long now...I couldn't resist.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily reads the dragon history that her mom left, Regina helps her figure it out. Blue changes Storybrooke.

Locked in a box with an unreadable message had to be some kind of torture. Lily would admit that her life had been less than stellar. She had made mistakes, and they were many, so maybe she was dead and this was some kind of hell. She'd had her mother's company just long enough to love her, to be close to her, to enjoy this, on some level because she finally had just her mom, and she'd never had that.

And Mom was so happy, patient, and content to be with her. She'd been safe, even here. She's still safe. There's no rent, no electric bill and she doesn't have to bring food to people who barely look up. Her feet don't hurt and she doesn't have to go home to a big empty house. It's just a little empty room, like a cell. Ten paces by ten paces, but there's no phone call and no parole. She's just here, alone.

Forever.

Shutting her eyes, Lily let the ash and dust fill her ears with silence. She was kidding herself if she thought her life was any different. She'd always been alone, this was just the most official. Death wasn't even an option here, though she'd hadn't considered it, not really. Maybe that was part of the immortality she'd always had, not never known about, never believed, until she'd had Mom and her strange memories of hundreds of years ago. Maybe this was why she'd never had to had that talk with one of the many social workers.

Didn't matter, because she wasn't getting out of here, unless the blue light grabbed her the way it had Mom. She opened her eyes again, daring the light, but nothing happened. Nothing changed. That was this hell. She did not want all the time to think, or to be with herself because her own company had never been pleasant. Lily knew what she was, and her own mind, and that for eternity, well--

Her eyes fell on the scratches on the wall. The only thing that marred the smooth surface of glass bricks. Mom had done that, and she must have had reason. She'd pulled out her own tooth, which had to hurt, even if she hadn't been that concerned about it. Mom didn't feel pain the way the others did. Maybe she'd had enough over her lifetime that it blended together and wasn't as acute, or perhaps she was just that tough.  Lily didn't want to try the same trick and see if she could pull one of her own. She didn't need to scratch anything into the wall that badly, not yet anyway.

Besides, it wasn't like she had days to count. There was nothing, and her, and more nothing.

The only thing she had that wasn't her was the message her mother had spent so much time carving into the wall. It was just history, stories of dragons, at least, that was what Mom said as she carved it. Lily couldn't read it, not without Mal guiding her hands. It was locked in her mind somewhere, wrapped in the dna of her. She didn't know it. None of the script made any sense. It was all foreign, worse than Greek, worse than Chinese because this didn't even go in neat rows, like human writing.

It resembled claw marks, slashed into walls, and apparently had been developed over centuries of ignoring other dragons, because they were terribly anti-social. Lily might never speak to a person who wasn't dreaming again, so perhaps in that at least, she'd live up to being a dragon.

She had to try. She couldn't give up. She knew this.

Lifting her hand, she traced it over the first word. How had Mom started that story? "The beginning was fire," Lily said, trying to ignore the way her voice echoed. "No. The beginning was darkness." She knew this. "And fire brought life."

Dragons were the only life under the stars then, and they were cruel, nasty creatures who fed on each other because there was nothing else to eat.

At least, that was what she could make out. When she didn't concentrate, when she just ran her fingers across it like she knew, then, somehow, the scratches were words. Or the words were already in her head, and all she had to do was remember.

Like fire, starlight tumbled to the earth and became life, joining the dragons. Those twinkling pieces of life were fairies.

She read on, her fingers finding the way in a way her eyes could not. This was a story of when the world was fresh, the stone of its body recently dried, and the flesh not even clothed with earth and water. The heart of the world bled fire, and that was dragons. The roof of the world wept starlight, and that was fairies, and for a very long time, they were alone together, ignoring each other as they went about their lives. Stars were cold, far and immortal so they preferred quiet, and order. Dragons were fire, hungry and ever-growing, feeding upon each other in the constant fight for survival.

There was no order in magic, no fate, no rules. Just the blue-white of starlight and red-gold of fire, constantly at odds with each other. When the world began to grow green and lush, other creatures crawled from the sea, water creatures and creatures of air, and dragons had others to eat and were less angry, less made of fury and hunger.

And time passed, meaningless, like Lily's time in the netherworld. Time without measure.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, but she hadn't been hungry until she'd read these words. When her hands passed over the words, she'd shared the hunger of her ancestors, the gnawing in her belly that was a step away from death. She became aware of her teeth, how sharp they were in her mouth, and if she needed to, she could have killed.

Why was this important? It was a creation myth, the dragon genesis story. Lily had never been religious, even ever been that good at history. She didn't need to know this now, but Mom had thought it important enough that she'd torn her own tooth from her mouth. She'd bled.

Had she known something was coming? She'd been so calm about the sleeping curse. Lily had thought it was because they were together, and she trusted Emma and Regina to save them, but maybe she'd known this was halfway. Being here was only part of someone's plan, and taking Mom, that was the next part.

Then what happened? What was happening up above? No one had been with her since Snow disappeared. When they were sleeping, their appearances here were random. It didn't happen every night. For all she knew, no time had passed at all, and Regina and Emma were still trying to find her mother.

Or months had passed, and something so awful had happened in Storybrooke that no one slept. Would she know if they were dead? If the entire town was gone, would she eventually be out of this hell? Her body would sleep, forever, so maybe she didn't want to think about that.

She touched the scratches and let them become words in her mind. The fairies wanted order, and chose an author, to record their history. They couldn't use a fairy, because a fairy couldn't be trusted to be impartial. Humans were earth and water and life, so one of them became their vessel of truth. She'd heard of the author, Mom thought it was ridiculous to bind the fates of living creatures before they'd been born.

Dragons had no fate. Neither did fairies, until they decided to write theirs, and in doing so, that of other beings, because the stars shone on everything beneath them and few creatures were as stubborn as dragons.

Lily's hands shifted, because there was a note, outside of the story, and unlike the memories that stole her away, this note wasn't part of the history of dragons.

This was Mom, and she wrote that some dragons were affected by fate. Some became the villains in fairy tales and were slain. She suggested that Lily avoid that particular ending.

Her eyes stung, because that was Mom, looking after her, making her safe.

"Lily?"

The voice startled her as much as a hand grabbing her shoulder. She said something, at least, she thought she did, but it came out snarls and half-speech and dammit, she didn't even know that language. Except that she did, in her blood and bones. Regina didn't, though, judging by the confusing written in her eyes.

"Are you a hallucination?" Lily repeated, this time using words that Regina, if she was her, understood.

"No."

Lily extended her hand, taking a step. "Are you dreaming? I thought only those who'd been cursed could be--"

"Becoming cursed was easy," Regina said, her hand caught Lily's and she was cool and soft. So fragile, and yet, she was also mother. The dragon within knew that, insisted upon it.

"So you had someone curse you?"

"Snow White, actually," Regina said. She stroked the back of Lily's hand, and her expression became a smile. "Magic loves a little irony."

Shaking off the spell of the dragon-writing, Lily remembered that story from the book. It was good that she could smile about it now. Lily wasn't sure how Regina did that, or how Snow had forgiven her so utterly, but some people were better at it.

Like Mom.

"Why did you?"

Regina's face twitched, as if she were startled by something, or uncomfortable. Lily almost asked, but she didn't want to pry, and then Regina's smile came back. "I didn't want you to be alone."

Lily swallowed her first answer. Knowing she was always alone wasn't going to help Regina, and she was kind. Regina would be sad if she knew. "Are you okay, being here? Is the curse different for you because you're human?"

"I'm fine," Regina answered. It had a practiced nature too it, and Lily wondered how many times a day she had to reassure Emma.

"Where are you?" Lily asked, they wouldn't leave Regina outside like a dragon. "Is your body safe?"

"Snow has it," Regina said, pausing as if to decide if she was comfortable referring to herself as an it. "Me," she corrected. "In the spare bedroom. I didn't know how long I'd be here, and Emma-"

"Shit," Lily interrupted. "You wouldn't want to be in in your bedroom because Emma's got to sleep there and that's--" She flushed, her face stinging. "Sorry. Did Emma know? You talked about it, right?" The question got out before she had a chance to ask. Maybe she wasn't supposed to get involved. Regina was her mom, but Emma was her friend, and maybe she should have waited and asked Snow because she didn't really seem to care what kind of questions Lily had.

"We did."

Lily's stomach stopped twisting, because that meant Emma was okay. At least, a little okay. She smiled and Regina's answering smile made her so happy that it warmed all of her. "Good."

"Emma means a great deal to you."

Nodding, Lily turned back to the wall and the words. "She's special, and kind of my only friend."

Regina took a step, standing beside her. One of her hands moved slowly across the left side of her belly. "Your mother has always been my only friend."

Lily couldn't smell her, not the way she should, because this was a dream world and her senses were just echoes of what they should be. She seemed healthy enough, and if the baby was moving, that was good, right? Maybe it was Regina's pajamas, but she looked more pregnant than she had been at the picnic. Did it really changed so much week to week?

"Is she okay, being here?" Lily asked, glancing at her belly. Regina and Emma were too practical to risk the baby, but she wanted to hear it.

"She's fine," Regina promised, and this smile was shy and grew tentatively. "She's never wanted to sleep while I was sleeping. Emma just explained to me what it was, because I thought- I- I don't think I was ready."

"Makes it pretty real, doesn't it?" Lily kept her hands from the scratches, because if she touched them, she'd lose herself again, and Regina was here and it was nice.  

"I like to think I was convinced of the reality before, but you're right. It's much more real now." Regina's eyes followed Lily's fingers. "How long did it take your mother to carve all of this?"

"No time at all," Lily joked, shaking her head. "I don't know. You start here," she said. Moving Regina's fingers to the beginning, she helped her trace the first character. Regina couldn't know it, wouldn't feel it the way Lily did, but she could find the shape.

"Did she say why it was important?"

Lily shrugged. "I thought it was something to pass the time. Keep us from going crazy in here, but I think there's something to it. Mom's never good at sharing her plans, but that doesn't mean she didn't have one." She guided Regina's hand across, and the chill of starlight and darkness ran up her spine. "This part is about how the fairies wove the system of fate that binds your world and this, I think this is about wishes." Hope rushed through her, futile, like wanting her mother as a little girl. "It doesn't read like words. Dragons don't think that way."

Regina nodded and let Lily continue to hold her hand. "But you know what it says?"

"Sort of, I have to lose myself in it." Lily shrugged again. "It's in me, somewhere, and if I stop worrying about what I can't do, I can do this."

"Of course you can," Regina said, and she did it so earnestly that Lily chuckled.

"Thanks."

"Sorry," Regina answered, still smiling. "Parenting a teenager is new to me, trying to parent a thirty-year old is going to take a while."

"I'm thirty-two," Lily said, teasing, "but thanks."

"Should I leave you to it?" She took a step back, willing to watch while Lily lost herself in the wall of stories.

"Stay," Lily asked, looking at the wall instead of Regina's dark eyes. "It's kind of intense. I don't know if I would have come out of it if you weren't here."

"Okay," Regina answered. She patted Lily's shoulder. "I'll be right here then."

"I promise not to eat you."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Is that a concern?"

"Apparently it's all early dragons did," Lily said, glancing back at that passage. "Nothing else was around."

"Is this the 'dragons were the first life' story?" Regina asked, hands on her hips.

"Yeah."

"It would behove you to remember that all creation myths tend to be rather self-centered on the beings who are created," she said.

Lily nodded, sheepish but amused. "See, parenting a thirty-two year old comes just fine."

Regina's smile lit the room, and Lily turned from it, focusing on that as the center before she reached out to her other side.

Dragons had their own magic, because each spark inside of them is living flame. Fire continued to burn as long as there was fuel enough. Fairies too had their own light, but starlight is cold and distant and the sun and the moon can make it weak.

Old magic, star magic, works best when the moon is dark, in the dead of night. The spell that found her had been starlight and blood. What spells were at work now? What was happening to Storybrooke? Mom hadn't been that worried about the Blue Fairy. She'd even accepted that plant- and then they'd slept. So it had been her, must have been her.

But why?

Humans, and the beasts, not content to live their lives wondering at their fate, learned to wish upon the stars above, because on a clear night, the stars could hear them. The dragon side of the story muttered that the stars were petulant and answered when they wanted to and it suited them.  Dragons did not need to grant wishes because fire thrived on change, but stars, who shine in the same place, even after they're dead and gone, were willing to help because wishes were power.

Wishes were hope, and that was a special magic. Hope was something the fairies could use, could make and focus.

Lily saw her hands full of diamonds and understood. Diamonds clarified and concentrated the power of hope, of fear, of trusting your fate to another being. Wishes were about surrendering your own power to change your destiny.

The author kept track, writing the ledgers because fate was a system that had be balanced. Good and evil had to struggle, and evil needed to exist because desperation built hope and no one wished when there was a good harvest, or the winter was short and mild.

The oldest of the fairies came together and wove fate in the darkness with the naked magic of stars and blood. Villains would rise and heroes to slay them. The lowly could become queens and kings, if only they were fortunate. Horrible diseases could be cured if you had a destiny.

And wishes poured in like rain on the fields.

Old memories took her, wanting her to run with them, to fly over tiny villages and little mud huts, to see the squalor and the beauty of the old world through eyes long dead. Lily shook herself free, reaching for, and finding Regina, who looked at her, curious and patient.

"What did you see?"

"The fairies made fate."

Regina tilted her head to side, contemplating that. "It's possible that they developed the author, and set the rules for good and evil."

Lily's hands shook when she released Regina and she held them in front of her, watching her fingers tremble. "They did it for power. At least, some of them did. Wishes are power, they're like fire. You can turn a wish into anything."

"The power of fairies is based on being worshiped, at least, that's what one of my mother's books said. Fairies depend on the respect and belief of other creatures, because it is difficult for them cast magic from within. They're not like dragons."

"Or humans," Lily said. That was important, for some reason. "You and Emma, you make magic. Literally. You made this baby, you make fire. You get all of that from within you. My magic's inside of me. I think this story, the whole thing, it's Mom's way of trying to explain that the fairies can't get magic from inside of themselves."

"That's never bothered them before, at least," Regina paused. Her eyes slipped from Lily's face as her thoughts drifted. "Reul Gorm."

"She's the blue one, right?"

Regina shifted her weight on her feet, then started to pace. "She's the leader of the fairies, the oldest. Mal used to say that she was one of the first."

"The first of the fairies?" Lily asked, cold welling in her stomach.

"She's the oldest I've ever heard of," Regina said.

Her feet made no sound in her slippers and Lily had to smile at her because she so rarely saw Regina less than put together and there was something so familiar. Flashes of Regina smiling, looking up at her in a way she never had, interrupted Lily's thoughts. Those were Mal's memories, and she had them inside of her. Mal loved her without reservation, because that was the way Mom did things, without holding back.

"Would she want to hurt Mom?"

"They've never gotten along," Regina said, turning and pacing back. "They're not really enemies, unless--" Her gaze moved to Lily's face, her lips tight. "Diamonds and fairy dust concentrate hope, right?"

Lily nodded. "And fear, all the emotions behind wishing."

"And if no one wished?" Regina continued, walking straight up to Lily. "If no one needed to wish, because life in Storybrooke is safe, and good, and there are witches around to cast spells and heal you and fix the streets--"

"The fairies would still have starlight."

"And streetlights, and headlights, and the world just isn't ever dark here." Regina continued, almost as if she spoke to herself. "Mal's heart is the strongest magical object in town. Taking it wouldn't be easy."

"Blood and starlight would do it," Lily volunteered. "That's in there," she said, pointing at the story. "The strongest of spells can be written in blood and starlight."

"She never wanted power," Regina said, shaking her head. "Even if she had the means to do it, Reul Gorm never wanted to rule."

"Maybe because she couldn't," Lily said. "Didn't you have a hell of a lot more magical people in your world? More dragons? Here it's just me, and Mom, you, Emma, Ursula and Cruella. No one else has magic but the fairies. The Dark Thing-"

"The Dark One," Regina corrected.

"Right, he's gone. His dagger isn't good for anything. It's a little kingdom, and it's just the six of us and the fairies. You and Emma kind of rule things."

"We're both elected," Regina reminded her. "Fairly, I might add."

Lily smirked, even though she didn't have time to argue. "Maybe she's never had a chance to rule before and this is it. She knew Mom was weak. Everyone in town knew that Mom nearly died trying to get me, so maybe, maybe this is her chance."

Regina's lips curled into a snarl. "The moth should have stayed in the shadows."

* * *

 

The last time the whole town had been in the gym, the roof had been about to fly off in the storm and everyone had still been less afraid. All around Henry, people shuffled their feet, looked at the floor and clung to anyone near them.

They'd been sent here, lined up in alphabetical order, and because his last name wasn't the same as his grandparents, or Emma, he had to stand by himself and he wasn't afraid, not really. He knew he didn't have magic, and logically, he was then no threat to Blue and whatever her plan was. Logic didn't make the device any less terrifying.

On the table in front of her, sat a glass ball, floating in a bowl of water, as if it were made of ice. When someone rested their hand on it, it either glowed (that was bad) or it sat still and quiet. For most people it sat still, for a few people it had glowed a little, and Blue took their wrists and inscribed something.

The first child she'd grabbed cried the whole time, even though it didn't seem to hurt that much. It was just a mark, but he'd read about history, in this world and the old one. When you marked people as different from the rest, it never went well. Red was a few steps in front of him, with Granny just ahead of her. Mulan stood next to the table, with Emma next to her. Mulan stared straight ahead, but her hands were gentle when she led people away.

Emma stood like a dead thing, almost as much of a zombie as Maleficent. Blue had locked her in a cuff of iron, not even leather like the one Hook had used on his mom. This was a nasty iron shackle that kept Emma's magic down.

It gave her headaches first, and after a week of Blue's rule, when she'd emptied both bottles of painkillers in the house, he'd made her talk to his grandparents, then Belle, but there wasn't anything Belle could do. Emma's magic was tied to his mom's, and while Mom was asleep in the guest room, Emma's link had been severed.

And she wasn't Emma. She was, sort of. She still smiled, but she hurt down to her bones, and she was never warm.

She'd been so worried about Regina; what cutting the link between them would mean for the baby, that Emma hadn't thought about herself. Now she rarely spoke unless someone asked her a question, rarely moved if she didn't absolutely have to. His grandparents plotted, Belle smuggled messages between Red and Snow, and everyone researched whenever they could. Reul Gorm hadn't closed the library yet, but no one trusted her. Why would they?

Red touched the glass globe and the responding glow lit the room.

"Of course, well then." Reul Gorm stood, holding a ring of iron. "This will bind your powers. You may wear it or be exiled beyond the town line."

"What a fantastic choice," Red muttered, holding out her arm.

She'd wanted to fight, and Henry didn't blame her, because Storybrooke had never been this quiet. No one went out to play, school was too quiet and no one got anything done. Granny's barely had an customers, the supermarket was full of people grabbing what they needed and leaving. Blue had made it a ghost town.

Ursula and Cruella's tavern sat empty because they were gone. They'd disappeared the night Blue had taken over. Red thought they might be able to reach them and Belle had been looking into it, but seeing how Blue treated Emma, when she was the savior, made Henry wonder if Blue would have even allowed villains to live. They were 'wanted for questioning' now, but that meant nothing.

"All magic users must have their magic dampened for the good of the town. Magic has run rampant through Storybrooke long enough," Blue repeated, calling Granny forward. The ball glowed, not as bright as it had for Red, and Granny extended her hand to take the mark.

Some kind of needle scratched it into their flesh and it hovered there, blue beneath their skin.

Henry stepped up to the table and Emma smiled at him, just a little. She'd made him promise to follow the rules, because Blue had Mal, and a dragon could destroy the town before any of them could escape.

He knew that she worried for Regina most, because she was asleep and Emma had no magic to protect her. Mal could easily smash the house kill her, or take her, and Henry didn't think Blue was behind blackmail.

Maybe that's what all of this was. Submit or watch your family die.

He reached out his hand, trying to be fearless. The more Blue stared at him with that insincere smile, the easier it was to stare back. He wasn't afraid of her. He wouldn't be. Not when there was hope.

The glass ball was warm against his hand, even though the water was cold. Henry only needed to hold it for a moment, but nothing happened. He did not have to be marked, and Mulan led him to the much fuller side of the gym.

"Stay quiet," Mulan whispered. Belle touched his arm, nodding. She also had no magical inclination, so she'd been safe. Across the room, Emma fit an iron cuff onto Granny that matched her own. Her fingers fumbled with it, and Red helped her.

Did no one else see how bad that was? Emma still got up when the phone rang, or when her alarm went off, but she wasn't her. She tried to protect him, and she talked to Mom, but part of her was gone.

At the end of the seemingly endless line, a tiny group of those with magical potential stood in the corner of the gym. Red and Granny stood at the front, their bodies between Blue and the others. One of them was a little girl so tiny that she barely stood on her own feet. Another was a boy Henry knew, Ben from his science class. He'd never talked about magic, but his wrist bore the mark.

Would Mom be able to take those off when she got back? Would Mal eat Blue for what she'd done or would she let Mom put her in prison?

Emma moved through the little group, trying to keep everyone calm.

Magical beings could be just like everyone else, if they followed the rules.

Henry had heard that, but he didn't believe it. Rules weren't arbitrarily splitting one group from another. Rules didn't mean saying that some people were different.

And they couldn't fight, not yet, but they would. Maybe Blue hadn't realised it yet, because she still thought of herself as a hero, as the savior Storybrooke had long needed.

While she stood in the center of the gym and told them how she would build a better world, the eyes of the greatest heroes of fairy tales were all on her, and none of them gleamed with forgiveness. It wouldn't matter that she had a dragon, or that she could kill all of them in a moment. They'd find a way to defeat her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went for the obvious allegory to other people who have separated little groups in the past, but I'm okay with that. Thanks for reading!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow meets with Ursula, and comes to a realization. Henry visits Regina and Lily in the underworld and Emma gets some help from her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> positive things in this chapter, creepy dwarves, but positive things! thanks again for sticking with me.

"She said she's not hungry," Henry said, returning to the kitchen with Emma's dinner, untouched.

David sighed, taking the bowl of pasta and setting it on the counter. He'd moved Regina into the master bedroom because Emma slept next to her each night, so there was no point in her not being in their room. Emma barely left her except to go to work, and Henry was a competent kid, but he couldn't be expected to look after his moms without help. Regina's house was big enough anyway.

Snow wondered what Regina would say about Neal's toys scattered all over the floor of the living room and decided that she might think it was okay.

"I'll go talk to her," Snow offered. She rubbed Neal's head in his highchair and stood. David handed her the bowl of pasta.

"Get her to eat," he reminded her, kissing her cheek. "I don't know if she had lunch."

Cradling the bowl in her arm, Snow headed for the bedroom. How many times had she walked up these stairs in the last few weeks? She knocked once, waiting for Emma's customary soft acknowledgement.

"It's okay, mom," Emma said, and the weariness in her voice carried through the wood of the door. She sat up in bed next to Regina, wrapped in two blankets even though the late summer air was still warm outside. She never got warm anymore, not when she showered, or no matter how thick her sweater. Her book lay forgotten by her side and her hand trailed through Regina's hair.

"I know she's okay," she said, looking up to smile at her mother. "But I miss her."

Snow set down her past on the bedside table and rubbed Emma's knee. "We all do."

"You at least get to see her," Emma said, looking at the food before looking away.

"And she's fine. She sends her love. I know it's unorthodox, but I think it's been really good for her and Lily to have time to talk. They're so cute when I see them, Henry says that too." Snow reached across and smoothed a wrinkle on the blanket over Regina's legs.

"I know," Emma said. She looked at the pasta again and moved her hand towards the fork. "I haven't been able to keep anything down." She said, turning the fork listlessly in the pasta. It was probably cold by now, and that must have made it more unappetizing.

"I can bring you something else."

"It's okay," Emma nodded and pushed the fork aside. "I won't keep that down either. Belle thinks it's some kind of poisoning. She's--" Emma paused, shutting her eyes.

She couldn't take more painkillers without eating, but her headaches never let up. As worried as they'd all been about Regina, this was worse, and Emma wasn't getting better.  

"She can't run any tests because the hospital doesn't have a doctor who understands magic, educated with a curse or otherwise," Snow finished for her. "And with the fairies gone, the hospital's very short staffed and you're not the only one responding badly to having your magic taken from you."

"How's the Cooper girl?" Emma asked, her eyes still shut.

"Better than you," Snow replied, reaching for Emma's hair. "She still eats when her mother tells her to."

"She's two," Emma argued. "I think eating means she throws it all over the room."

"How can we help? Should we curse you so you can wait this out with Regina?" Henry could wake both of them, if he needed to, and Emma's face had become so drawn.

"We need Lily," Emma insisted. One of her hands slid down Regina's arm until she held Regina's still fingers, and then she opened her eyes. "Wasn't that what Regina said?"

"Unless Lily has a true love we don't know about--" Snow let the statement fade, because Emma's eyes slipped closed again. She wouldn't eat tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, or maybe when she woke in the middle of the night as she had yesterday, they could get her to eat something. Anything.

Red too was ill, but she bore it with the strength of a wolf, so she'd been better than Emma. The Cooper girl, Susan, had days when she was too ill to leave her bed, and a boy from the year below Henry hadn't been in school for weeks. They had already began to talk at the hospital of a ward for the magical folk they were losing, a piece at a time.

Snow smoothed Emma's hair, and shifted the blankets. Emma didn't wake. She never did when she was touched, now that she was so tired. With a little effort, she slid Emma down so she lay beside Regina. In contrast with Emma, Regina's skin was healthy, bright and supple. Her breathing was regular and the slight rise of her belly reminded Snow that there was hope. There was purpose to all of this, and reason, because they would save Emma and Regina and let them raise this child together.

And Henry, who was so brave and so strong, would have his mothers back.

She kissed Regina's forehead, then Emma's cheek. Emma's skin was too cold after Regina's, as if she were already half a corpse.

"We all love you," Snow whispered. "And we will save you, whatever it takes."

She brought Emma's untouched food back down with her and put it in the fridge. David had a sleeping Neal in his arms and most of the dishes were in the dishwasher. Regina had a far superior kitchen and even though Snow could hear her fussing over her knives and how the pans were still dirty, it was nice to have her here, even in that quiet way in Snow's head.

Washing the pans gave her time to think as David and Henry started a movie in the other room. Some of the few things Blue hadn't set any rules about were the conveniences of modern non-magical life. They had the internet, and all the streaming video they could want. The terminology still made her think of films, floating down a river like moving books, but she pushed that away.

They needed Lily. Lily, who had one mother cursed with her and the other controlled by the most evil of fairies. Regina hadn't been able to wake her, so perhaps it wasn't that kind of sacrifice, parent for a child, that they needed. Lily had no romantic partner, so that wasn't the answer. There had to be an answer.

What was it? Thinking things through hadn't been her strong suit. She'd captured Regina with luck and fortitude. Defeating puzzles that seemed to have no answer was the kind of thing she'd want Regina for, or Emma, but Emma wasn't Emma. She'd been a ghost since Blue put that cuff on her arm, and now the ghost was taking over. Snow couldn't cry. This was her daughter near death and she had no tears.

She had no ideas either, just the same stubborn optimism that Regina always made fun of. She wanted that now, Regina's sarcastic jabs and her rolling her eyes. Maybe she'd be lucky and see her and Lily before Neal woke her to feed or she woke in a cold sweat because her dreams insisted Emma had stopped breathing.

Snow kissed David and Henry good night, then lingered over Neal's sleeping little face. Was it easy to be his mother because she'd always had him? Would it be easier to cry for Emma if she'd gotten to hold her longer than a moment? Snow left them and went for her coat. She needed time to think and fresh air because her chest ached.

They'd asked so much of Emma that it seemed unfair to ask her to face death again for the town, but they didn't have another way. She couldn't take off the iron shackle, couldn't free her, and couldn't get rid of Blue, so she had to ask Emma to wait. To hover between death and life until they could save her.

The idea that they couldn't squeezed her chest and wouldn't let go. The hot summer air didn't help, because that too hung heavy. She paid little attention to her feet, following the streetlights that Mal had replaced, because she found those calming. Would she be able to help Emma if they had her back? Could a dragon free her? It didn't matter, because they had no dragon and she'd been foolish to become accustomed to having a dragon on their side.

The stars watched her, cold and unforgiving beyond the roofs of Storybrooke. She couldn't look at them, because they knew she'd failed her daughter, again.

She turned a corner, moving past the back of the shops. It was so quiet now, because no one dared leave their houses.

"Not a bad night for a stroll," Ursula said, slipping out from behind the wall. She appeared just like the bricks for a moment, then became herself, as she always did.

"The stars are cold," Snow replied, looking up again.

"They always are." Ursula rolled her shoulders. "How's Emma?"

"Worse." Snow couldn't even find the strength to soften the truth. "We're losing her."

Ursula nodded, her eyes dark with sympathy. "Thought that might be the case. I can give you a potion to give her some strength, but it'll be temporary."

"Thank you." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Regina and Lily think Blue must be consolidating power, waiting for something. Fairy magic is strongest on the dark moon so it's most likely that."

Ursula fell in step beside her, and they walked together down the silent alley. "That's three nights away, not that we can mount any kind of defense, but, at last we know. Tell me more about the cuffs."

Shuddering, Snow hugged herself tighter. Nothing about Emma's shackle or any of the others was right. "They're more like shackles, heavy iron, always cold to the touch. They're more than dampeners, aren't they? Emma's been without magic before but she's never been like this, and Susan, the Cooper's daughter, she can't even stand anymore, and Ethan's started losing his hair."

"Sounds like dark iron. There are legends about it being forged in starlight and it being capable of draining magic. These shackles could be collectors." Ursula guided Snow around another, darker, corner.

The town had been so quiet that Blue didn't even set any kind of patrol, and the sheriff's night duty car would already have passed the little side street leading towards the harbor.

"You'd think having Maleficent's magic would be enough for her," Snow muttered.

Ursula's mouth curled into a half-smile. "Once you have power, it's never enough for some people."

"Not you?"

Their feet echoed as they left the pavement for the wood of the pier.

"I only wanted freedom," Ursula explained, smiling out at the sea. "The power I craved wasn't the power to dominate but to chose the course of my own life."

"No wonder you spent so much time with Regina," Snow said. Shaking her head, she followed Ursula's eyes out over the black sea. "I've spent my life trying to defeat villains and idolizing the heroes, but then I listen to you, Mal and Regina talk, and it's not like you walk around cackling with glee at your own evil when you're a villain, is it?"

Ursula smirked, just a little. "Well, Cru likes to cackle occasionally, but yes, if you want to look at it that way, Regina and I both turned to magic because our parents never gave us the chance to be who we really were. My father used me to murder hundreds of sailors, and I assume you've had the dubious pleasure of meeting Cora so you know what she did to Regina."

Snow nodded and sighed. Cora running Storybrooke would have been worse than Blue, if only just. "Is that all it takes to be a villain, bad parenting?"

"Depends on who's writing the story," Ursula shrugged, and the silence grew before she brought them back to the present by tapping the railing with her hand. "Cruella's willing to try controlling Mal, if you and Regina think that might work."

Snow nodded, Regina had thought of that. "Regina wanted me to ask how close would Cruella need to get and how long she could control Maleficent?"

"Close, and she's not sure." Getting Cruella close to an angry dragon wasn't going to be easy, and if she failed, well, it was likely Cruella and the rest of the town wouldn't live long enough to regret it.

"Then we need Lily," Ursula said, and they sighed in unison. That was a hundred times more complicated.

Studying Ursula's face, and knowing the answer just from her eyes, Snow couldn't help asking. "You don't know any more about sleeping curses than I do, do you?"

"Never used one," she answered, checking over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone. "They're more Mal's thing. I'm afraid of my list of villainous acts is actually rather short. Regina didn't have any ideas?"

A shiver ran up Snow's spine, even in the warm summer air. Being under the sleeping curse would always be part of her nightmares. "Regina focused on me, and since she was trying to keep me apart from David, our love was what broke it."

"So is that in the fine print? True love works if you're trying to keep someone away from their love and maternal love works when Henry's dying or when Zelena curses the town…" Ursula turned around and leaned on the railing. "We could guess for years and not know what kind of love will undo Blue's curse and get us Lily, and without her, it'll be us versus whatever horrible army Blue can conjure and Mal, and I've been fond of living so far…"

Footsteps echoed, coming closer, and Snow grabbed Ursula's shoulder, guiding them behind one of the warehouses. It sounded like boots, so it would be the dwarves. No one knew what had gotten into them since Blue took over, but Tink had explained the fairies had brought life to the dwarves to serve them as miners.

Now, with nothing to mine, they roamed the city, pickaxes in hand, and they were not the same men who had sheltered Snow so many years ago.

"Will they do anything to you?" Ursula whispered, started to fade into the side of the building. She disappeared, blending in like octopus, (Snow had learned that from a nature documentary but it was still weird to watch a woman do it).

"No, curfew only applies to magical beings," Snow answered in a whisper, standing and putting her hands in her pockets. The dwarves might be slaves to Blue's will, but they wouldn't stop her.

"If you need us, you know how to reach us," Ursula reminded her before she vanished entirely.

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Snow headed down the street, back towards town, as if she'd just come to watch the stars over the sea. Sleepy and Bashful she recognized, but their eyes held no trace of the same towards her. Perhaps they weren't allowed to show it, but they looked so blank. Almost the way Mal did. A third dwarf stood with them, behind and watching, as if he were learning.

Snow stopped, because that she couldn't ignore. "Evening," she said, feigning calm.

"Ma'am," the two dwarves said. Sleepy glanced over his shoulder at the one behind. "Navy, this is Snow White."

"Navy?" she asked, keeping her tone light.

"We're all shades of Blue now, Ma'am. Don't need other names."

She found a way to nod as if that were an entirely normal thing to say, and headed past. Their pickaxes indeed bore new names, Cobalt and Arctic. She swallowed her horror and walked in silence.

Could Blue do that? Rewrite their identities as easily as she'd taken Tinkerbelle's wings? Did she have the much control over all of the Dwarves?

She had to concentrate to avoid dragging her feet as she headed through the dark town. Now that she paid attention, instead of assuming all the dwarves she saw in silhouette were the men she knew, Snow counted five new dwarves, all being escorted by the others. Had Blue found a way to harness the magic she was collecting? Was that why she needed it, to build an army?

Her mind raced, and she'd never be able to sleep, but she needed to see Regina and ask her, because Regina might know what was happening. Maybe Belle could help, if she was still up, but it was getting late enough that Snow might be on her own until she fell asleep. Why hadn't she noticed the new dwarves before? Just how new were they?

Turning towards Main Street and the familiar clock over the library, Snow stopped, because Regina's office was on the left and in the yard beyond, Lily slept.

David had been what Snow had most faith in when he'd kissed her. She'd bitten the apple for him and he'd saved her. Henry had worked so hard to have Emma believe him and her faith had woken him. What did Lily want to believe? Where was her faith?

She stood there, staring at the clock that hadn't moved until Emma came to town. She'd spoken to Lily so little, because they could barely be in the same room together and she didn't blame her, not at all, because what she'd done was wrong, no matter how she tried to justify that to herself. She'd taken Lily chance to know both of her mothers, who loved her and should have had that chance.

Snow wanted to jog, to run, but she kept her pace slow, like she'd forgotten something in the office she needed to retrieve.

Long ago, so far behind dozens of new dramas and new villains, the Blue Fairy, her friend and confidant, had given Snow and David prophecy. A Dark Curse would come, more terrible than any other, and two would escape it: a savior to bring the light, and a destroyer. She'd though the destroyer must be dark, must be evil, and she'd listened to Blue, sacrificed her daughter- and Regina's daughter- to protect her kingdom. Emma had saved them from Regina's curse. She'd thought that was the end, that the destroyer had not come to pass.

Fate couldn't be cheated that way and now Lily was here, and the kingdom was in peril and maybe it was her fault. Perhaps it was all meant to be different and Lily should have been with her mothers, so the curse would have been different. Slipping around the mayor's office in the dark, Snow arrived in the backyard, where Lily slept on beneath Regina's apple tree.

Walking up to the dragon's muzzle, Snow ran her hand over her warm scales. Lily radiated a heat that soothed her fingers, even in sleep. She hadn't touched Maleficent in this form, and Henry had talked about what dragon skin felt like, but she'd been afraid. Dragons were so big and terrifying, and David had needed to kill one. They were awful creatures, except, Lily felt so alive, so vivid.

Dew steamed in the grass around her and Snow rested both of her hands on Lily's muzzle.

"I did a terrible thing when I took you from your mother and I know I can't make it up to you, because time is precious, and I know the pain she's been in, and you." Leaning closer, she saw the beauty in Lily's scales that she'd never been near enough to Maleficent to see. The colors played in the light of the streetlights, and hints of purple danced.

"Maybe Emma was meant to bear this burden, because she's my daughter. Perhaps you should have been the one to save us before, and it's my fault, because I heard the prophecy and I feared the dark, because it took Regina and I- I love her and I couldn't face losing my own daughter that way."

Her eyes burned, then the tears came. She'd been holding them back for so much of the day that her head ached from the effort and relief made her knees shake.

"Darkness took your mother, and losing her nearly broke me, but that doesn't matter, because you should have known her, and Maleficent. You should have ran on the grass and learned to fly and had everything a little girl should have, that I wanted my daughter to have. I gave you a terrible destiny and a miserable life because I was afraid. You deserve better, from the world, from your mothers, and from me." Snow stroked her muzzle again, leaning close. "I lost my mother and wanted Regina to come take her place and because of that, Emma lost me, and you lost Mal, and now Emma's son and daughter, might spend their lives without their, and that's too much. There's too much loss and grieving."

Her tears ran down Lily's scales, making them sparkle in the moonlight.

"I have to ask for your forgiveness, because I thought you were born a monster when I was the one who caused you such pain. Forgive me for then, and now, because you'll have to face your mother, and we don't know how to beat her, we can't--"

She kissed Lily, and her scales tasted of magic. Magic flowed between them, as if released from a dam, rushing outwards in a wave of light.

* * *

 

Henry appeared in the corner, dressed in his pajamas, as always, and Regina went to him the moment he appeared. Hugging her tight, he nodded to Lily over her shoulder.

"Hey."

"How's Emma?" Lily asked, because she must have known that it would be the first thing Regina wanted to know.

"Tired," Henry said, and he looked down, then up again. "Belle said it's like a kind of radiation poisoning. She doesn't know how to treat it and the hospital's kind of overstretched at the moment."

"Wasn't very forward thinking of Blue to take out all of the medical staff," Regina muttered. She squeezed Henry's arm. "Emma will be okay."

He nodded, but more to calm her than because he believed it. She knew that look on his face.

"Belle says that she's the worst, but it's everyone that Blue has taken their magic from. They're all sick, Granny and Ruby are sort of okay, but it's bad, Mom."

Her stomach knotted with worry, and as if reacting, her daughter moved, nudging her. She must have made a face, because despite their worry, Lily and Henry grinned.

"How's little fish?"

Regina rolled her eyes, because Emma's nickname had stuck, and everyone used it and she had no say in how they referred to her daughter. Henry and Lily shared a look and she had to smile at them, because here were her children, together, and maybe the third just wanted to be involved.

"She hasn't gotten any bigger," Regina admitted, which made sense, because time wasn't passing, not for her, but didn't, because her pregnancy hadn't been still since it began. Now the little fish moved the same way, with the same strength, because she to was trapped, waiting to go home.

"But she's okay."

"Your mom-" Lily stopped, and blushed before she looked at Regina and corrected herself. "Our mom makes the weirdest faces when she moves."

"It's a disconcerting sensation," Regina protested, covering her surprise. Our mom. She'd looked at Henry and called her 'our mom'.

"I believe you," Lily said, still looking at Henry. "I'm just acknowledging that you make faces when you're disconcerted. We don't have a lot else to do in here, so I'm pretty aware of it."

Henry smirked, and nodded, and then Lily nodded and if they started to giggle she didn't know what she was going to do with either of them.

Henry patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"We're sorry," Lily added. "It's just, we don't have a lot to be happy about, and we know little fish is okay. That's a big thing, Mom."

She stared, far too long and too quietly at Lily's dark eyes. Lily's smile started to fade and Regina grabbed her hand.

"Okay." She finally found a word.

Henry completed their circle, taking both of their hands. "We're family," he said, "all of us, and we're going to beat this too."

Lily beamed at him and Regina's eyes stung. That moment, however brief and strange in their netherworld prison, gave her hope, because they were family. This was the kind of thing they beat, together. She didn't want to let go to wipe her eyes, so her tears ran free down her cheek.

"It's okay," Henry said, his voice soft and even. "We usually win when things look like the worst."

She studied his smile, and marvelled again at how wise he'd become. She started to speak, to thank him for his optimism, then light, white and blinding, took Lily away.

Her grip faded from Regina's, as if she'd been pulled and no matter how she tightened her fingers, Lily was gone.

"What happened?" Henry demanded.

Regina brought her now-empty hand to his, catching it between both of hers. "Could Blue have found her?"

"That wasn't- that didn't seem evil." Henry started to fade, drifting away from him as he woke. "Mom?"

"I'm okay, find out what happened to Lily." She squeezed his hand one more time, then he too was gone.

Silence swallowed her whole, because now the little room held only her and dust. Wiping her tears away, she replayed Lily's disappearance. Did white light always mean good? Lily hadn't felt ripped, or torn away, as she would have been if Blue had her heart. She'd faded, like Henry did.

Lily was awake. She had to be. Regina couldn't fathom how she'd been awakened, but Lily was all right. That white light hadn't felt wrong, or hungry, but warm.

That same warmth reached out for her, enveloping her, and little fish swam, heedless of what was happening.

Light wrapped her up, pulled her away, and left her in bed. Her bed.

Henry stood over her, still in his pajamas, but Snow stood behind him, tears fresh on her face, and Lily--

"Lily," Regina whispered, reaching for Henry and her daughter and they caught her, holding her arms. "You're--"

"I'm here," Lily promised. "Turns out Snow could wake me, and I'm grateful, but I feel kind of weird."

"You get over that," Henry and Snow said in unison and David, he stood in the corner with the little prince in his arms and Emma--

Regina turned her head, looking for Emma, because she should be here too. A cold hand brushed against her cheek and she moved towards it, searching.

The Emma who smiled at her looked like death, pale and worn through so her bones seemed too sharp for her skin. All of her questions about how Snow had woken Lily faded, because Emma was weak in a way she'd never seen.

"Emma--" She let go of Henry and Lily if only to try and warm Emma's hand. "Emma, what happened?"

The iron stung against her skin, as if it was covered in ice. Flinching back, Regina stared at the cuff around Emma's wrist. She'd heard about it, but hadn't seen it, and it wasn't iron, not iron as she knew it.

She'd had that damn leather cuff on, and lost her powers, but this-- this radiated hunger, a neediness that was entirely wrong.

"It's a little gift of the new order," Emma teased. Sitting up beside her, Regina reached for her, needing to hold her, but that only reminded her how fragile Emma was, how cold, how weary in her arms.

"Emma."

"I know," Emma answered, looking past Regina at the rest of her family. "We need to keep you hidden, you and Lily. The cuff's draining me, but I don't know what it'll do to you and the baby--"

Fear clamped around her heart, constricting and frigid. "How can we?"

"Blue's spies aren't very good," Snow said, with her typical optimism. "Most of the birds have been giving her misinformation. Lily made a facsimile of herself."

"A fake me, so no one knows I'm awake," Lily explained, looking sheepishly at Regina. "It was Snow's idea."

"It's a good idea," Regina said, moving her feet to get off the bed. She stroked Emma's cheek, trying not to wince because her skin felt like paper. They needed her well, they needed all of Emma to fight. "Can you do anything about this?" She said, reaching for Lily.

Lily circled the bed, still in her outfit from the fourth of July barbeque, Regina's memory supplied, however unhelpful that was. "Do what with it?"

"Off would be nice," Emma joked, leaning back against the bed.

"Without taking off your hand?"

"Could you fix it if you did?" Emma asked the question far too seriously and Regina cleared her throat.

"Could you melt the iron?"

"You want me to use dragonfire and be all precise?" Lily asked, eyes wide with alarm. "I can barely control it down to one tree, let alone a little piece of metal."

"Emma might still be immune," Regina said, then chided herself for sharing Snow's optimism. In her current state, Emma looked like a mosquito could take her out.

"Might," Emma teased, grinning at her.

"I'm sorry," Regina began, slipping off the bed to stand beside Lily. "I shouldn't."

"No," Lily stopped her. "It's okay. I- I should be able to do something about this. It's star iron, that's why it's making Emma so sick."

"Star iron?" Regina asked, looking between all the faces around her. No one seemed to know and Lily met their gaze as if she'd said something wrong.

"It's a meteor, from the stars, it's a powerful talisman in fairy magic, and I can't just--" She paused, letting her thoughts drift. "Do you have Mom's tooth?"

"Yeah," Emma said, shifted her head. "Top drawer, in a handkerchief, thought it might come in handy again."

Lily took it out, turning it in her hands. "I need a towel," she said without looking up. Someone, Snow, brought one from the bathroom, and they laid it across Emma's lap, resting her hand on it. "Your magic is tied to Emma's so if I can get it off, that should start healing her, but star iron is a conduit. Blue hasn't just been stopping Emma's magic, she's been taking it, and Emma's so strong that its absence will be noticed pretty quickly."

Turning the tooth in her hands again, Lily held it against her arm. "This might not work."

"It's okay," Regina promised. "I-"

"We-" Snow corrected for her. "We trust you."

Using the dragon tooth, Lily cut her arm, and blood, dragon's blood, welled around the tooth, glimmering red on her skin. Letting it fall onto Emma's arm, she waited until a stain of it coated Emma's wrist, between her skin and the terrible iron shackle.

Lily took a breath, and Regina touched her back, because she believed in her, and fire poured from Lily's mouth. It was not neat, or elegant, as it was with her mother, but fire made the terrible iron sizzle and crack and it stank like molten metal and Lily grabbed it, peeling it from Emma's wrist before it got through the dragon's blood and hurt her. Lily held that iron in her hands, balling it together, then sucked the fire from it, putting it out.

She dropped it like a ball and it thudded on the carpet and Emma sat there, towel wrapped around her wrist and the funny spicy scent of dragon's blood filled the air but light lived in Emma's eyes again.

David poked the ball of now useless iron with his foot. Lily stood trembling, staring at her hands and Snow and Henry both touched her, smiling.

"You did it," Emma said, managing to smile as if she meant it now. "I can feel that it's gone."

Regina kissed her, trying not to wince at the cold, but this time magic flowed between them, warming Emma and putting some color in her face. Then she left the bed and took Lily's hands.

"You did it."

"I knew it might work, somehow, it--"

"Dragon thing," Emma finished for her, still smiling. "We get it."

"Mom?"

Regina looked around, almost expecting Mal to be there because she wasn't Mom when Lily used that word. She was Mom to Henry, but not, and yet, Lily's eyes were on her.

"What is it?"

"I'm going to have to fight her," Lily said, staring at her bloody hands as if she already had Maleficent's blood on her. "You need me to fight her."

"Lily-" Regina began, and stopped. She let the silence grow and nodded. "We need you to distract Blue, keep her busy. If we can get Cruella close enough, maybe we can control Mal, send her out of the action but--"

"How am I going to do that?" Lily asked, not just Regina but Emma, Henry, Snow and David. "How can I fight her?"

Regina grabbed her, hugging her tight. "She's not herself right now. She's not your mother while Blue's controlling her."

"She'd say it's all in our blood, all of our history and we fight each other, devour each other," Lily said, hugging Regina carefully so that her hands were apart and there wasn't any blood on Regina's clothes. "And my blood knows it. I can feel it, but she's my mom and I--"

"We'll come up with a way," Henry promised, adding his optimism. "We always come up with a way."

Lily searched their faces, looking for hope. Regina held her a moment longer, then returned to the bed and Emma, because Emma's eyes were on her and that was all the hope she needed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma, Lily and Regina talk about what's to come. Emma and Regina reconnect and Storybrooke faces Ruel Ghorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nearly the hardest chapter I've written. Hope it works. This chapter contains violence and blood.

Regina held her hand the whole time they talked. Henry sat on her other side, basking in having his mothers back. They sat up long into the night, drinking coffee and speaking in low voices about what they'd have to do.

Lily's charade wouldn't hold long, and the full moon, which would be Red's strongest point and Blue's weakest was only two nights away. Few people went near Lily, so unless Blue had a reason to check on her, or one of her brainwashed dwarves got too close,  Lily should be able to remain hidden. Emma and Regina could cloak the house easily enough.

Henry went to bed not long before midnight, kissing his mothers and lingering in Regina's arms because she hadn't been able to hold him in weeks.

"You've been so brave," she whispered.

"We have a town to protect," he replied. His smile was not quite a man protecting his family and not quite a son relieved to has his mother back, but something in between.

"Thank you," she finished, hugging him again. "Now get to bed."

Emma squeezed him and he hugged her back harder than he had in awhile, probably because she no longer looked like she was dying.

Lily's arm healed while they watched fire knit her skin back together. "I'm pretty good at that now," she said, studying her arm. "Don't know how that will help in a fight."

Reaching forward to touch her shoulder, Regina put her faith in her voice, her tone warm and proud. "It'll be useful afterwards. When we've defeated Blue, we'll have much to repair.

Sitting on the sofa together, while her parents plotted and everyone tried to reassure Lily that their lives, and the safety town, would not come down to her ability to defeat her mother. (though, she had to know what they did, if she couldn't stop Maleficent, they'd die facing her until Blue decided that she'd had enough slaughter.)

Regina's hand tightened, her fingers holding Emma's so tightly that her knuckles were pale. It hurt, a little, but everything had been so numb with the shackle on that Emma almost relished it. Regina was back. Snow got up to make more tea, and Henry finally agreed that he should probably go to bed.

Regina nuzzled her shoulder, then rested her forehead against Emma's cheek. "I know I should feel like I'll never need to sleep again, but I'm still tired."

"I know that feeling," Emma said. Regina's hand squeezed hers, this time to remind her that they're okay, at least for the moment. She dragged Emma's hand over to her belly and held it there.

"You can't feel that, can you?"

"No." Emma had to smile, however tired. "Probably not for a few weeks. You put the pause button on little baby fish here."

Regina kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry."

Shuddering, Emma reached for her hot chocolate with her free hand. "Don't be, you were safe. I hate to think about what that horrible shackle might have done to you or the baby."

Regina's expression softened, and she snuggled closer, which must have meant that she still worried about what it had done to Emma.

Leaning into her, Emma breathed the air between them and she could almost feel the life that radiated from Regina. Maybe it was their magic, and that deprived of that connection, she'd been worse than alone. "It was like not being able to get enough air, or enough food, no matter what I did. I've never felt like that, but it's gone now."

"We missed you," Regina said, letting Emma take the opportunity to change the subject.

Letting her forehead rest against Regina, Emma smiled before she sat up and forced herself to drink her hot chocolate. She needed to eat, and drink, a lot to make up for the weight she'd lost. Her jeans were going to fit all weird until then. Might as well start with hot chocolate with extra cream.

"Are you using the royal we?" Emma teased, and Regina smirked because the next kiss tasted of hot chocolate.

"She's part of you," Regina said. She squeezed the hand resting on her belly and her smile turned shy. "I don't think she's aware of anything yet, but even in the netherworld, I had part of you with me."

Emma's heart melted in her chest and she shook her head again. "You're not going to make me feel romantic about a sleeping curse."

"Not about a sleeping curse," Regina corrected, pulling Emma closer. "About me, and our baby, and how we're all connected, no matter where we are."

Kissing her was too much temptation after weeks of not even being able to speak to her, Emma shivered and rolled her eyes at her parents. "Are they done scaring Lily yet?"

Turning her focus, Regina looked past Snow and Charming and straight at her daughter. "Lily?"

Holding her arms crossed over her chest, Lily pushed off the wall and took a step towards them. "Yeah, Mom?"

Regina's smile then could have lit a bonfire. "Don't think you have to defeat her, you just have to hold her back, keep Blue from being able to use her to hurt anyone. Take her out over the sea, or into the forest, fight defensively. You're the biggest threat, so she'll go after you. If you can keep her away from the town--"

Lily's little laugh echoed hollow through the room. "You'll somehow defeat the leader of the fairies who's been feeding off the magic of everyone in Storybrooke who has it, in the thirty seconds I'll be able to distract my mother?"

"You know what she does," Emma reminded her, searching for as much warmth and hope and she could. "It's in your blood, all the memories of the dragons. I've felt that, I mean, not for very long or with any kind of understanding, but it's all in you. Even what Maleficent knows, every fight she was ever in, they're inside of you."

Sinking to the floor in front of sofa, Lily sighed. Staring at the the carpet beneath her crossed legs, she nodded. "I know kung fu?"

Chuckling, Emma patted her shoulder while everyone else stared at them without understanding. "You do. You know dragon kung fu, whatever that looks like. I know how hard it is to be the person everyone needs to save the whole town and I know how horrible that is, how much pressure that puts on you. Fuck up and we all die."

"Emma--" Regina interrupted but Lily turned around to face them, and she finally had a grim sort of smile, even if her eyes were cold.

"How do you do with it, savior?" The years could have turned to dust then, and they could be sitting behind the theater after they'd snuck in to see the Matrix, two orphans, alone in the world. Now they had family, and their family needed them to defend them. Sure, it was weird and her best friend was also her step-daughter, but all that meant was they both loved Regina, and no matter what happened, Regina would survive this. Lily would understand that. She'd have to.

Emma slipped off the couch, sitting on the floor next to Lily at Regina's feet. Across the room, her parents sleepily passed the little prince between them so he could rest on David's lap while Snow made more tea. Regina's knee was behind her head, and Emma wrapped her arm around Lily's shoulders, pulling her in close.

"Remember when we didn't have anyone? It was you and me and no one else cared what happened to us, but we cared, and we fucked things up, but we had each other. Now it's a bigger each other. My parents aren't perfect, and maybe I wanted them to be for so long that it's hard when they fail me. Fail you--"

Regina's hand squeezed her shoulder and Emma's chest ached, because forgiveness had never been as easy for her as it was Regina.

"We have parents now, and siblings and people we have to protect. We're needed, we belong, we're part of this, we've made this and we keep it safe. Even my parents," she added the last in a whisper, because she knew how hard that was for Lily, for her, it was all such a mess, but their mess. Their family.

"We're forgiving the misguided theft of babies now, and mass murder, and whatever it is Maleficent did to be the mistress of all evil," Lily replied, only partially joking. It had to be funny, because that way they went on. This was their tangled lives, and knots were tough. They'd have to be.

"It's complicated," Regina said from above them. "It's a self-assigned title."

"She's crazy," Lily said, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I keep thinking she'll walk in the door, free of the Blue Fairy and be so pleased with herself that we're all so surprised. I- I guess I keep thinking she'll save me."

"You'll save her," Emma insisted. Clinging to her own foolish hope made it easier to share with Lily. "And me, and your other mom, the whole damn town. We save it together, and it's the most terrifying thing, but we can do this. We used to think we could do anything when we were just us, but we have backup now.  The cavalry's kind of peasants, werewolves and the smartest librarian on the planet, and they're all here for us."

Lily turned her head, and her dark hair fell down over her shoulder, so much like Regina's. "Thanks."

"You can do this. It's a chase, make 'em too tired to catch you."

That faraway smile was Lily from more than a decade ago, and she'd been so tough then. They both had, and now they were exposed, surrounded by love and affection, so soft instead of armored and alone.

"Love is strength," Emma reminded her. "And we love you, and your mom, and I don't know if that's enough. My parents would say it is, and they haven't lost so far. So, maybe there's something to that."

* * *

 

They were the last in bed, after Lily had a bedroom (because she wasn't spending the night alone in Maleficent's house) and Snow and Charming did, then Regina returned to their room. Emma watched her undress, as if it had been yesterday that they'd been so hopeful about the summer, about Lily fitting in, finally.

"You know, saving the town is a great way to fit in," Emma joked.

Slipping her dress off to hang it back up, Regina's reply was dry and quick. "It's a little abrupt. She went to sleep only barely comfortable with helping Mal with the fireworks and woke up our last hope in a battle to the death with Reul Ghorm. That's a little intense." She took off her bra and sighed, holding her breasts with one arm while she chose pajamas.

"She had you in there, and Henry and Snow. Those two are kind of the hope brigade," Emma said, studying the gentle curve of Regina's spine. "And you've gotten much optimistic."

"I live with you and Henry," Regina reminded her, slipping her nightgown on lazily over her head.  Moving to the bed, she stood before Emma reaching for her hands. "I'm not tired."

"Side effects of a sleeping curse."

Regina's fingers warmed Emma's and magic reached out, tentative at first, then stronger, filling the void Emma hadn't been able to name.

"Careful," Emma said. The last thing either of them needed was Regina drained. She was better in a fight than Emma was anyway. "I'm okay."

"How many times have you ignored me when I've said that?" Regina teased. The flow slowed between them, something warm and comforting instead of a rush.

"I ignore you a lot," Emma replied, then stood, wrapping her arms around Regina's back. "At least, I try to, and I can't. I can't focus. Having you here and not here was harder than I imagined."

"Snow said you slept next to me." Regina's hands wandered across Emma's chest, and her dark eyes met Emma's, full of apology and something Emma couldn't put her finger on. She and David thought it would be strange for you, having me there and knowing you shouldn't wake me."

"Couldn't," Emma corrected, because true love's kiss wasn't something they shared. At least, she didn't think so. "That's not something we do."

Regina's lips brushed hers, then kissed harder, warm and demanding more than she yielded. "You didn't even try?"

"No," Emma said, shaking her head. "You went under the sleeping curse to help Lily, me waking you wouldn't have done that, and I probably can't."

"And Snow was so convinced you could." Regina's hands ran across Emma's breasts, warm through her thin t-shirt, and they headed down, brushing her stomach. "She thought it was a mark of willpower."

"I'll have to tell her it's low self-esteem."

Regina took her face in her hands, holding it close so she could look into her eyes. "Emma, no. You're everything. You're enough. True Love's kiss is an arbitrary, ridiculous thing that makes no sense at all."

"Says the woman who spend weeks beating herself up because she couldn't wake Lily."  Emma pulled her in closer, and the familiar hardness of the child between them made her smile. "I think we're even."

"I can't believe you didn't try to wake me," Regina muttered as Emma kissed her neck. "I would have tried to wake you, and I have impulse control."

Chuckling as she turned Regina towards the bed, Emma slipped the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder. "You needed to be with Lily, and you wouldn't have forgiven me if I took you away from her. The kids come first." She bent down to kiss Regina's belly, relief washing over her like warm rain. "Especially you, little fish."

"It's not a contest," Regina said above her head. Her fingers ran through Emma's hair and when she came back up, Regina waited to kiss her again. "Or a competition. It's you and me and our children, we're family. You don't come second, Emma, you never will."

The hand on the back of her head pulled Emma closer and they stopped, wrapped in each other, centimeters from each other's lips.

"Okay."

Regina's smile made weeks without her melt away, because she was back. She was here, and her nightgown slid from her shoulders so easily. Without her t-shirt, the bones of Emma's ribs were too visible and her collarbones too sharp. She had never thought of herself as ugly, but now she was so boney, so exposed.

Regina kissed her collarbone, then her cheek. "Don't worry about it. You've been ill, Emma."

"I didn't say--"

"You didn't have to." Pulling her down to the bed beside her, Regina sat, holding Emma's hand. "My breasts have never been this heavy, and I keep looking in the mirror and trying to guess what else is going to change because it's odd."

"You're beautiful," Emma said. She caught herself grinning even though she'd just missed Regina's point.

Regina lifted her chin with a finger and studied her face. "As are you, I assure you."

"You were trying to say that we have little control over what happens and we should be grateful we're together?" Emma slipped her nightgown lower, exposing her breasts and cupping one with a hand. Regina's flesh sat heavy in her palm, warm and swollen with life.

Glacing down, Regina returned her smile before she leaned close and whispered: "I was trying to say that I love you, and your body, no matter what it looks like."

Emma shivered when her lips brushed her neck. "I like yours better."

Kissing her way down Emma's shoulder, Regina ran a hand up her thigh. "I missed you."

Fabric rustled and Emma's pajamas slid down, then off. The bed creaked; Regina chased her up, kissing her as they moved back towards the pillows. They should sleep, but this was as important. This was healing; magic began to creep, building between them like static. Straddling her, Regina kissed down her chest, running her tongue over the too-sharp ribs beneath Emma's skin.  Emma sighed, rocking up towards her, ghosting her hands over Regina's legs.

Life welled within her, seeping out into Emma, like a spring turning the desert to flowers. She's rarely been short on life, on energy, but in this moment, she needed Regina, and her magic. Maybe sex was just part of that, or magic was strengthened by the bond between them, because they were connected, so many times over.

Regina's skin shared a warmth Emma hadn't known for weeks, and their hands wandered, taking their time. She almost expected the swell of Regina's belly to have changed, because time has passed, but not for their baby fish, and she's the same size. What she had loathed happening to herself, was beautiful in Regina and her thumbs slid down towards Regina's hips, starting to remove her underwear.

Just that touch made her groan and Emma looked up, grinning. "What?"

"Don't stop."

Obeying, Emma continued to slip Regina's underwear down her butt, then her thighs and they shift, making space for Emma to remove them.

"Don't stop, what?"

Taking her hand, Regina brought it to her sex, rubbing it against the wetness there. "Emma."

Her heavy-lidded eyes and the hitch in her voice pushed the warmth in Emma's stomach past pleasant to vibrant, vivid, almost painful. She turned her hand within Regina's, gliding her fingers across her clit. Her little moan was shivered through Emma's spine. Her fingers circled, then pressed. Regina sucked on her neck, then her breast and they sit against the headboard, Regina straddling her lap.

Emma kept her touch light, maddening instead of satisfying, and Regina rocked above her, pushing her hips closer. Her moaning grew deeper, full of more desire, more need, and she fought back, using her strong fingers to taunt Emma in return.

They had to keep looking at each other, as if breaking their gaze would destroying something precious. Regina's eyes dilate, growing darker as her pupils grow.  Emma kissed her and Regina's tongue caressed hers, then her lips and their breathing rose together. Touching Regina was the closest to praying that Emma had experienced since her last brush with death, and sharing her mouth was sacrement.

"Deeper," Regina demanded, her mouth so close that her lips moved against Emma's.

Licking her top lip, Emma complied, bringing her fingers in and upwards, curving gently back. Somehow between them desire sated was magic recharged, regained, and the more she touched, the more Regina writhed against her, and power hummed like Emma's aroused nerves. Perhaps it was part of the bonding of their magic, but the teasing, taunting, and fulfilment brought sensation to Emma's numb fingers. She shed the greyness, the fog that held her senses, while Regina orgasmed around her hand.

She's beautiful in the moment, all breath and life, condensed in a tightening of muscles. Her knowing fingers send Emma over the edge, and the rushing fireworks of her own orgasm bring life where there was weakness. Regina's head rested on her chest, and they caught their breath together, sweat damp on their skin.

"I missed you too," Emma said, kissing Regina's cheek. She held her face, soaking in her eyes.

* * *

 

Rain started as a mist, then fell heavier until it drummed on her scales. That would be Ursula, and the thunder that followed made her certain they were coming. Maleficent suspected their attack would come with the moon, which was smart, because Ruel Ghorm would be at her weakest and the wolves at their strongest.

If they'd found a way to remove the horrible shackles. Lily could, of course, if they had her, but she'd been asleep in the yard beside the town hall on the last patrol Ruel Ghorm had made her fly.

The rain steamed off her hide and the same itch on her right flank maddened her, because she couldn't scratch it, couldn't move without permission. Being without a heart was becoming a prisoner of her own flesh, unable to shift any part of herself.

She tried, often, raging against the control Ruel Ghorm maintained because it amused her to watch Ruel Ghorm squirm to hold her tighter. The burns on Ruel Ghorm's hands never truly healed, and Mal took her pleasure in that. Her thoughts were her own, and they remained with Lily, trapped alone in that netherworld. Henry and Snow would have helped her, tried to protect her sanity if they could not wake her.

She had to trust that her nest had the care of her daughter because she was not allowed to even scratch the itch on her flank. Perhaps the scale would do her a favor and fall off.

Ruel Ghorm prowled the mayor's office, pouring over parchment and spells so old they had been rubbed from rocks. From her vantage point, Mal could either watch her or the rain fall onto the roof. If she strained her eyes, she could look at the street, but the streets had been so quiet.

Not tonight, the lightning suggested.

The hail added a little sting to the rain, but she couldn't move, couldn't even shift her head so her horns took most of the brunt of it. She added that loathing to the many Ruel Ghorm had collected and waited for the assault.

Regina wasn't subtle, nor were Snow White and her prince. They'd come up main street, their army behind them. Would Lily be with them? Had they found a way? What plan could they have without Lily? Dragonfire was too intense. Unless they'd found a particularly talented blacksmith, they had no defense. Emma and Regina's shields could hold for awhile, but they'd be exhausted long before Mal ran out of flame.

After the storm reached a pitch that threatened the trees along the street, their army arrived. They did walk up the Main Street, a coordinated mob of bodies. Images of them dead, their flesh scorched and peeling from the black bones, flashed through her head, but they must have had a plan.

She trusted, clinging to that faith in the pit of her stomach. If Regina and Emma were wise, she would not be the instrument of their deaths. There were no gods left for dragons, but she prayed to the great cold nothing that could have her if her family lived.

They came, lining up like sheep, or soldiers, because she wasn't yet sure what they were. They held weapons, they made ranks, but they had no armor here.

Emma stood beside Regina, and her cheekbones were too sharp under her skin. Her wet hair was pulled back into a braid, like Regina's and Mal gave herself the moment of amusement, picturing them sharing the task of braiding their hair for battle.

Next to them came Snow, David, and the wolves. Shackles gleamed in the streetlights on their wrists, so they were still chained to Ruel Ghorm. That was a shame, they might have found a way to free them.

Ruel Ghorm had noticed, because Mal's legs brought her upright, and turned her to face the army. Her head rolled on her neck and fire bubbled in the back of her throat. First she would be Ruel Ghorm's threat, then her devastation.

Staring at their determined faces, Mal would have swallowed the fire if she had the strength. She was a puppet, a plaything, a cruel weapon of a power mad point of light and that was the greatest injustice. Ruel Ghorm was the light of a dying star, her time, and her strength were passing. Humans, brief and brilliant as they were, lived in change, in flux, but Ruel Ghorm was a thing that had already died.

Static. Unable to grow like all those she envied. She brought death, perhaps because that was all left within her.

Mal's feet thudded on the pavement, and Ruel Ghorm circled her to face the town she'd enslaved. Mal only needed a moment, an instant, and she could have closed her jaws around the sprite. She would have tolerated the taste long enough to make sure she was dead.

"And what's this?" Ruel Ghorm asked, holding Mal's heart like a talisman of fire. "Worried about the storm?"

"We're sick of your unelected rule," Snow said, her bow in hand. It was comforting to see her with a weapon again. It brought pride to the way she stood.

"And you brought back your former mayor," Ruel Ghorm purred, staring at Regina. "Welcome to the new Storybrooke. You'll need to be dampened, of course. We don't let _things_ like you walk the streets without being humanized like the rest of the town."

Regina rolled up her sleeves and the glint of fire began in her palm. "I'm afraid I'll be declining that very generous offer."

"So you'll fight?" Ruel Ghorm squeezed the heart in her hand and the singular agony of having her entire being wracked with pain washed over her again. The trembling and the roar, she was allowed. "I hate to point out, it'll be a short rebellion if all you've brought is what's before me."

"Perhaps," Regina said. She nodded to Emma and a glance passed through the front line. In a clatter of metal, Emma, Red and Granny Lucas stripped their shackles off. If she could have moved her lips, Mal would have smiled. There was one way they could have taken those off, and it made her heart sing.

"Are you certain this is what you want? Hasn't this been better? Since I've taken charge, nothing has attacked the town, no wraith has looked for blood, no Pan or Snow Queen has threatened us all, it's been peaceful, and you've been safe." She clucked her tongue in mock sympathy and frowned at the werewolves in the front line. "Even the puppies have been good."

"We're not free," Snow reminded her. "We can handle a few monsters. We pull together, we look after each other. What you're doing is wrong."

"And yet, it's the safest you've ever been," Ruel Ghorm answered. Tilting her head, she shot a flare of blue light into the sky and the army surrounding Regina's little one came to the light.

Dwarves, all dressed in blue, stood in rows, behind the buildings, emerging from the alleys. Regina and Emma were outnumbered, and dangerously underpowered.

"Magic doesn't make you free," Ruel Ghorm explained as if they were all foolish children. "Magic makes you dangerous. You should know that, Snow White and Prince Charming. Magic made your daughter the savior and doomed her to so much of her life apart from you. Magic makes her capable of killing, of falling to darkness. You lost one person you loved to darkness for nearly a lifetime. You think she's redeemed now, but how can you be sure?"

Snow rolled her eyes, and Mal loved her in that moment. "We were sure you wouldn't betray us, but these shackles of yours take away what makes us strong, what makes us unique. Red's not who she is without the wolf. Emma and Regina are our protectors; their magic has saved the town. Magic brought me my granddaughter, and I will hold her someday. You will not take that from me, not even with a dragon."

"Magic creates," Emma added, smiling with a naked heart at her mother. "We don't cut ourselves off from the weather because of a storm, we build stronger."

The hail intensified, starting to batter those beneath it. Ursula must have been watching, she'd always enjoyed making the heavens into a weapon. Something rustled in the trees, and hooves trampled pavement. That would be Cruella's contribution. The fresh, earthly scent of deer hung in the wind, even through the storm.

"After this storm, I don't think there's going to be much left, do you?" Ruel Ghorm asked. She let Mal's heart float before her, wrapped in a tether of blue magic, like a fiendish leash. Using both hands, she brought the dwarves closer and their pickaxes gleamed in the lightning. "So this is your choice? A world of chaos, magic, and death. Well, I imagine it will be mostly death, because there's nothing you can do against the dragon."

Mal lunged forward, hating the breath in her chest as her lungs filled.

The enslaved dwarves yelled their battle fury into the storm, and it mixed with the wind, echoing off the buildings. Fire filled her chest, waiting to be freed, to burn, blacken and scar until nothing remained.

Regina raised her hands, as did Emma, and perhaps there was some sort of shield--

Ruel Ghorm's order had all the tenderness of a lover as she called for death. "Burn them."

Fire streamed from her mouth, racing towards Emma, Regina and the unprotected town. She couldn't stop it, couldn't pull it back, and dragonfire was the embodiment of death.

Yet it washed away, gliding off of purple-black wings like water off of Regina's precious car.

Mal knew those wings. That was Lily. They had Lily. Hope soared and imploded in the same moment, because Ruel Ghorm would send her to fight. She'd have to watch, helpless and impotent, as her own claws rent her daughter's scales.

"Your little half dragon will never defeat her mother." Ruel Ghorm screamed into the storm. Caressing Mal's heart, she lowered her voice. "Kill her."

Her body tightened, rising from the street, taking to the air. Did Lily know what was about to happen? Had she studied the ways of fighting? Had she listened to her blood when it whispered the secrets of her lineage?

Lily rose with her, turning and heading towards the sea. That was smart, get them away from the people they could hurt.

Below them in the street, the dwarves attacked, then the forest creatures Cruella controlled joined in and not even the thunder could cover the chaotic sounds of war. That swoosh was Regina's fireball, and the softer one had to be Emma. Willing them to stay alive, she let them fade from her ears and focused on Lily.

Ruel Ghorm flew like a fairy, forgetting the time it took for Mal to corner and how much strength was in her wings. She'd relinquished control just enough for the instinct to rend and tear to be free. Her blood sang with the promise of the hunt, and it twisted her stomach, because that was Lily.

But her heart had been ordered to fight. And her body knew the dance.

The first strike came high, diving down into Lily's shoulder, and she dodged, late. (She lacked experience). Mal's claws rip into her flank but it's a flesh wound, glancing.

Lily whirled, turning so quickly that Mal couldn't help the flash of pride that came before her own wound. Her wing stung, and pain dashed through her like Ursula's lightning.

It's good. Lily's not holding back.

She's fought her own kind before, vile creatures who wanted her territory, and she had usually driven them off. Except the two who fought until their deaths. This fight will be one of those. Lily can't let herself be driven away, not with her family below, and Ruel Ghorm only wants Mal's bloodlust.

Lily caught her off-guard (perhaps Ruel Ghorm was distracted?) and they fall from the sky together, crashing into one of the wooden buildings along the pier. On the ground, it was uglier, gnashing teeth and flailing claws. Lily even used her tail, throwing her into another building and she's never been more proud as her own blood drips from her daughter's claws.

 _Kill her._ Ruel Ghorm demanded again, squeezing her heart until Mal's eyesight started to fail. _Kill her_. Lily threw her against the ground, pouncing and the pain she caused was so much less real than the agony Ruel Ghorm sent her through, over and over. _Kill her._  Lily turned too slowly, leaving her flank exposed and Mal's claws lashed outward, seeking flesh. _Kill_ _her_. Ruel Ghorm's words reached deeper, threatening her very soul.

She started to slip. _Kill her._

The snarl in her throat was her, not Ruel Ghorm's puppet, and the bloodlust sung louder, demanded more.

_Kill her._

Lily pummeled her again, throwing her through yet another wooden wreck of a building. No one built things to last in this world. They smash their way through the waterfront, through warehouses and stores until they're nearly back to the mayor's office. The scent of death filled her nose and Lily tackled her from the sky. They smack hard against the street, rattling wood and smashing windows. Her claws raked over Mal's chest, showering scales and blood to the cement beneath them. Lily pressed the advantage.

_Kill her._

She won't.

Lily's shoulder lay exposed. She hadn't pulled back her wings. She didn't know how much stronger that made her. How could she? Mal's jaws tensed, ready for the moment. The sweet spot between the shoulder and the neck always bled the most. _Kill her_.

She can't.

_Kill her._

She will.

Lily coiled, starting to take off again, but Mal's tail flashed out towards her. She tripped Lily's take off, tugged her close, pulled her in with strength Lily did not know how to fight. Her teeth demand the flesh, and self-loathing and despair will carry her to hell, because she bit. Her jaws tighten and begin to tear, slicing into Lily's skin. Her flesh gave way and blood, rich with magic, rushed into her mouth.

Then, mercifully, Mal stopped. Ruel Ghorm's commands pulsed through her body, rich with agony and the promise of a even more painful death, but she did not move. The blood kept her still.

Her beautiful daughter bled on the pavement beneath her. That blood ran down her throat, filled her mouth, and finally that made her stop. The agony followed as Ruel Ghorm understood that she would not move again to harm her daughter. The blood would not lie, and the blood knew. Lily was her daughter, and that meant she was not prey. Her body writhed, shaking and smashing the buildings around her, but all of Ruel Ghorm's orders are whispers of a dead thing.

Blood spoke to blood, and not even Mal's own heart can override that. Her screams of pain carry over the din of pickaxes and swords. It'll be a long death, slow and rich with suffering, but Lily will survive. The bite was deep, but not impossibly so.

Lily shrank, and the bite went with her, but on a human it was deep and dark. Her left arm won't move.  

With Mal still, the fighting stopped. Maybe it had stopped when Ruel Ghorm had made her scream. Ursula stood below her, and Cruella. Mal's eyes flick through faces until Emma and Regina meet her eyes. Blood stained them as well, but they stand.

They've lived this far.

"Dragons ate each other," Lily said, picking her way through the rubble and the bodies in the street on a steady path to Ruel Ghorm. "Did you know that? In the beginning, when there was nothing else to eat, they hunted each other, but there was one they would never eat, never dare, because the blood bond was so strong that not even the will of a dragon can penetrate it."

She winced, covering the wound on her shoulder with the hand she can still move. Blood seeped around her fingers, and it's a wonder she was standing at all. Someone would help her. Regina was close and--

"My mother will never destroy me," Lily continued, still moving forward towards Ruel Ghorm. "No matter what you do. Dragon blood has it's own magic, ancient magic, and you cannot change that."

Mal would have screamed at her to run, to take Emma and the rest of the nest and just fly away, but she can't. She sat like a stone statue, helpless and mute.

Ruel Ghorm leaned close to Mal's heart, caressing it. She exhaled, then began to breath it in. Power went with her breath, igniting a flame inside of her much like that tree had for Mal, so many years ago in another realm. Ruel Ghorm's eyes flashed blue, and the power she took crackled within her.

"If the stupid beast won't destroy you, I will."

Her palms filled with blue flame, like oil burning in the darkness. Lily stood before her, unprotected, bleeding, and there's nothing, nothing Mal can do but watch.

The first blast of fire flashed out and a shield held it. Then another blast, another shield. Emma and Regina stand behind Lily, both battered by more than the hail. Emma limped, and Regina favored her left arm. They all reeked of blood.

They're exhausted, spent from the fight, and even when it's diluted by Ruel Ghorm's own type of magic, dragon fire was strong.

The shields eroded, the began to fail. Ruel Ghorm tossed them both aside like feathers and turned to Lily.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "You're the destroyer. I know your life. You bring pain and death. You always have. You're nothing to this town, to these people," Ruel Ghorm continued, and the flame grew brighter in her hands.

Lily had no shields, and Regina scrambled to her feet but she was too far.  

Lily turned her eyes to Mal, then Regina, Emma, and all the faces looking to her. She stopped on Regina, on Snow and Charming. They took her, they sent her on this path, but Lily smiled at them.

"Your fight is futile. You're only half a dragon." Ruel Ghorm fired one crackling blue fireball and Lily stumbled aside.

"You're right," Lily answered, glancing back at Regina. "I am only half a dragon."

Ruel Ghorm retreated to Mal's heart, ready to draw more magic, but Lily--

Her hands blossom with fire of her own, bright, pale green, like the first flowers of spring. "Too bad for you."

One fireball slammed into Ruel Ghorm, making her stumble. The next shoved her against the wall, and then fire flowed from Lily's hands, jets of destruction reaching outward.

Ruel Ghorm could hold the power of a dragon, but not the fire. Lily battered her, forcing her closer and closer to the wall, and Ruel Ghorm's blue habit smoked from the impacts. She kept it up, throwing light with her hands, even though one won't even move.

"But you're wrong about the town," Lily finished, pressing further forward. "The town is something to _me_. It's my home, and I won't let you take that."

Lily's hand reached for Ruel Ghorm, dripping with the blood of the dragon, and perhaps that was why it slipped so easily into her chest. Mal's never watched a fairy die.

Blue light erupts outward, blinding them all before Lily crushed that heart in her hand, and the light collapsed back in, turning to dust.

Falling to the ground, Lily smiled, cradling her hand to her chest. Regina rushed to her, and Emma, and the flurry of activity beneath Mal's head meant so little compared to Lily's bleeding shoulder and her own heart, floating without a tether.

"Lily?" Regina said, drawing her up to her feet. Emma needed to help her balance; her poor girl. "You can put it back. I think you might be the only one."

Lily's hands shook but they take Mal's heart from the air and she can breathe again, really breathe. Shoving her heart back into her chest, Lily collapsed against her, panting against her scales.

"Come back," she whispered. "Come back."

Her heart ached, then burned, and that damn itch on her flank reared again but this time, she could scratch it. Her paw moved, and she could bring it back, and Lily--

Mal dropped the dragon form, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Holding her close, she had life again. Hope and pride of a kind she'd never experienced burnt through her, leaving so much contentment in its wake.

"You did it," she murmured into her daughter's sodden, bloody hair. "You saved us all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking with this story and hating Ruel Ghorm as much as you do, it's fantastic. I hope her defeat pleases you.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily takes a new job, Maleficent and Regina talk about the baby's impending birth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to come back. Turns out I needed to actually meet Lana Parrilla to get my muse for this back. I've condensed some things, and I thought I'd focus on the birth of Emma and Regina's baby because that makes a nice ending. Emma and Regina both have some stuff to work through before they meet their baby but it'll be healing for everyone. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience. Hopefully the ending (two more chapters) will be up before the end of May. 
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who helped me work through my demons with this. Wapwani, Shinewithalltheuntold, Racethewind10, and others...I've had so much support and it's been wonderful.

Her mother's hands ran over her neck, pulling back her hair. Lily's had a whole series of jobs that dictated what she do with her hair. Mostly food service, making coffee, waiting tables. This would be different. She probably didn't even have to pull her hair back, things were different when you were a magical doctor not a medical one. It seemed right. 

And wrong, because she wasn't a doctor, she hadn't been to medical school. She'd read, more than she thought she could read and take in, but her dragon brain had a seemingly endless capacity. She had barely passed biology in high school, and now she could draw a perfectly accurate diagram of the ventricles of the heart. If that would help. She wouldn't have to do surgery, not with her hands, but knowledge did make her magic work better. She'd healed a broken ankle last week and knowing how the bones fit together, being able to picture them coming back into place, that had helped. 

It was ludicrous really. One did not rise to the position of doctor simply because she had the genes for it, being half-dragon and half of the formerly evil queen, but normal towns didn't have dragons changing their streetlights and repaving the sidewalk. Regina tolerated Mal's improvements, and the way they looked at each other sometimes... Regina often reminded her that she was conceived in love, perhaps not the best understood or acted upon kind of love, but love nonetheless. Lily saw it when they talked, when Mom fussed over Regina, or when Regina let her do things that no one else really got away with. 

Sometimes she waited for Emma's jealousy, or for Emma to snap at Mom for something, because Mom was sometimes still more dragon than human, but it didn't happen. There were moments where she wondered, because Mom and Regina were close, and Mom was affectionate with Emma, especially while Emma recovered from the fight with Reul Ghorm. Her life wasn't that weird, was it?

She was already surrounded by magic, and women with magic, and the whole town was magic. So why deny it? Use it. Finish medical school in a few months and call herself doctor because the town needed one. (Doctor still felt weird, healer was easier to deal with). Lily had tried to ask Mom to take it on instead, because Mom had a knack for healing magic, but Mom couldn't be the healer every day. She had the town line to patrol and a whole bunch of administrative responsibilities because Mom and Regina ran a town together well. Mom would always help her, but the position had to be hers. 

She'd always wanted to be useful, and this was needed, necessary and terrifying. So maybe this bizarre new job wasn't about faith in her, but her mothers and what they represented to the town. 

Now that she was no longer the menace of Storybrooke under Rhuel Gorm's control Maleficent was respected in a way she'd never been in the old world. She had been feared before, avoided, spoken of in whispers back in the Enchanted Forest. She'd nearly been the instrument of their destruction here, but now, kids ran up to her in the street, begging for fire tricks, or flights around town. Regina had made her promise not to take any kids up without their parents going with them, but the kids asked. The most innocent residents did not fear their dragon, but loved her. Somehow, her dragon mother had become a hero. Maleficent never would have defined herself as such, even when Regina and Emma but rolled their eyes and smirked when mom tried to insist she was not part of the heroes. 

Emma said the saving the whole town thing felt less weird with time. Lily wasn't sure if being nearly killed by her mother as she saved her, was ever going to be less weird. Yet, here they were, standing in front of mirror while Maleficent finished fussing with her hair. 

It was up. That was good enough. Lily had not inherited the knowledge or desire to be fashionable, but this was her swearing in. She could wear one of mom's suits today. Just today. 

When mom dragged her to the mirror, Lily barely recognized herself with her dark hair elaborately swept up on her head. Ponytails or maybe a braid would have to do for every day, but today, she almost looked the part. The suit Mom had found for her fit well, making her look taller, more elegant. Kind of like a doctor who worked in a fancy clinic. Not the self-taught, mostly magic reliant only option for a healer they had. 

Calling her doctor was a formality, a way to transition from the life that was, to the life that would be. They'd gained many things from the curse, vaccinations, plumbing, electricity and the internet, but there were ideas worth keeping from the old world. No one would pay Lily to heal them. She wouldn't have to collect their insurance, or make deals for their second-born child. She would just make them better, to the best of her ability. 

"You look beautiful," Mom said, stroking her cheek. She patted her shoulders and then pulled back, rubbing her eyes. "I'm so proud of you." 

Lily turned and hugged her, because that was pretty much the only way to get her to stop crying once she started. (Who knew dragons were so emotional?) "It's just work, I've already been doing this job for what, a month?"

"And I've been proud of you all month, and before that," Mom muttered into her neck. Lily stroked the scar on the back of her hand that she'd become so familiar with. Thin silver scars covered both of them, and Lily's shoulder would always carry a round set of teeth. Swimsuits had been weird to wear for a while, but now, it was part of her. A weird sort of reminder that her mother loved her enough to break a curse. 

And cry into her neck. 

"We'll be late," Lily reminded her. "We're not even driving and will still be late." 

"Regina's not going to believe her eyes." 

"Yeah, I really don't look much like--" Lily sighed. "Me, do I?"

Mom touched her cheek again then sniffed, pulling herself together. Not that she'd care if she cried through the whole ceremony. "I love how you look." She stopped, correcting herself. "Except that thing. That terrible thing."

"The hoodie."

"It's ridiculous, why don't you just wear a cape?"

"We don't wear capes here."

"Regina has several." 

Lily smirked, grabbing her thick coat and tugging her hat on carefully over her hair. "Well, she put her cursed town in Maine."

"I don't think she chose Maine, this frigid wasteland is part of the curse." Mom wiped her eyes once more and pulled on her coat. "All right, I'm ready." She waited, making Lily sigh because she'd have to teleport them. Mom could do it, of course, but she'd wait until Lily did. 

For the practice. Maybe she just liked watching, enjoyed sharing the experience. Lily's magic, new green like the plants it seemed they'd never see again, swept them away. 

The clinic where they arrived was much smaller than the hospital had been. Instead of the harsh whites of the hospital, the new building was full of the warm golds of hard wood and softer blues. Like many other parts of the reinvigorated Storybrooke, the clinic, _her_ clinic, was an architectural hybrid of what they'd left behind and what the curse had given them. 

Due to their just barely timely arrival, everyone stood waiting for them in the lobby. Emma, Regina, and Henry Lily had expected, but the others: Snow, David, Mulan, Ruby, Belle, Granny and the crowd behind them surprised her. Lily hadn't wanted any ceremony, she had done anything. It wasn't like she'd actually studied medicine. They were the crazy ones, this little town of people willing to put their lives in her care simply because she had enough magic and time to look after them. Yet there they stood, smiling as she took a step towards Regina. 

Lily had expected, even heavily pregnant, that her other mother would graceful. The roundness of Regina's belly suited her, as did the softness of her face. Her dark hair fell from her hat unto her shoulders in gentle curls, and as always, she was the kind of beautiful that lived in stories. Emma stood behind her, one hand on her back, and she grinned, and at least that was less intimidating. Emma's just Emma. Maybe someday the sheer presence of her mothers will be less overwhelming, maybe she'll feel worthy of their affection. 

Nearly whole town stared at her, so Lily smiled back. It would only be a short ceremony. She could do this. Knowing Storybrooke, someone would need her help soon and she would just be able to go to work. She had a concussion and two sprained ankles to heal yesterday at the ice skating rink. That part of the job was easiest, taking pain away, helping flesh knit back together. That came easier than teleporting, and fireballs, which she could still only do if someone pointed something dangerous in her direction. 

No one was asking her to defend them. Her mothers and Emma would do that. She'd did what she had to and killed Ruel Ghorm, and as awful as she'd been, her death clung to Lily's hands. She'd killed, and her mothers forgave her instantly, without her even asking. Healing the town was how she'd pay it back. How she'd make things right, because she'd crossed that line, and couldn't come back. 

Regina folded her hands over her belly. "Well, doctor, good of you to come." 

"Sorry," Lily muttered. 

Mom chuckled, because she was always comfortable no matter how many people stared at her. "My fault, I assure you." 

"It's no trouble," Regina said, and her little smile was all mom before she pulled herself up, and became mayor. "Now, it is my great pleasure to swear in the first healer of the new Storybrooke clinic, Doctor-"

"Wait," Lily interrupted, staring at the floor until she had her courage. "Please."

Regina closed the distance between them, her expression full of concern. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "What is it? Do you not want the position? You said this was what you wanted."

"No, no, I want it. I just- Page was my old name," she stammered. "From my old life. I'm here, now, and I'm not that person. I never was that person. Mom and I talked about it, and she doesn't have a last name. If you're going to call me Doctor, I want to be Doctor Mills." 

Mom's grin grew so bright that it lit her face, and Emma nudged her, almost beaming. Maybe she should have talked to Emma first, made sure Regina would be okay with--

Then Regina hugged her, holding her so tight that Lily felt the baby shift. Her half-sister kicked while Regina held her. 

"That's what you want?" she asked, releasing Lily to look at her eyes. 

"I'm your daughter, and I was theirs, but they're gone. In this world, I'm yours." She glanced back at Mom, who beamed with pride. "And Mom only has one name." 

"I've only ever needed one." 

"I know." Lily shuffled her feet, hating her heels. Why had she agreed to wear them? She couldn't tell what Regina was thinking, or if she was upset. "Is that okay?"

"Okay?" Regina repeated. Her voice caught in her throat. 

Dammit, was she going to cry too? Mom was bad enough. She couldn't handle both of them. 

"Yes, that's okay," Regina finished, swallowing hard. She didn't cry, though her eyes shone with tears. Maybe she should have asked before, asked her in private. 

Regina took a moment, centering herself, then she turned to the crowd. "As I was saying, you will be the first healer, magical and otherwise, of the new Storybrooke clinic," Regina finished, and her smile came slower than Maleficent's, and was more tentative, but it lit her face all the same. "And my daughter, so I couldn't be more proud." Regina held up her hand, gesturing for Lily to do the same. "Now, in this world, healers take an oath. So, repeat after me." 

She'd learned the Hippocratic Oath that morning, reading it over with breakfast while Mom had burned the bacon. Regina would have had to memorize it like a human, and she had, for her, for this. So they could repeat the words together that bound Lily to this community. 

To her home. 

Regina's eyes shone with unshed tears, and Lily's own began to sting as she readed the end. 

"May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help," she finished, staring into the deep brown eyes of her mother. "Thank you," she added, softening her voice so that was for Regina. 

"Citizens of Storybrooke," Regina continued, but her voice caught. She smiled, forcing her tears away. allow me to present, Doctor Lily Mills." Her voice caught and Lily wanted to run and hug her, forget about all the ceremony, because her mother was proud to give her a name. Her name. 

Henry had a plaque, because of course, there had to be something. The brass shone bright against the dark wood, and thankfully the clapping didn't go on that long. The hugging was much easier. The plaque was going to drive her crazy for the first few weeks, but one wave of Regina's hand meant it said Lily Mills, and maybe that, she could stand to look at. 

Emma pulled her aside as the crowd retreated to cars for the inevitable celebratory drink at Granny's. "That was a nice thing to do. It meant a lot for Regina."

"It meant more to me that she was willing to share. I should have asked in advance, gave her time to think about it, to say no, if she wanted to." 

"She didn't, she wouldn't, she's your mom," Emma insisted. She leaned against the wall, watching Henry help Regina with her coat. "And that's important to her."

"It's still hard to believe, isn't it? We're part of this, we have family, people who'd miss us, people who want us to be around."

"We belong," Emma added, shaking her head. "Doesn't seem real."

"Says the savior."

"To the half-dragon bitch who saved us all."

"Don't I get a plaque for that?"

Emma laughed, turning her smile towards Regina and Henry. "You do, it's just in city hall, we keep having to add more names. Town's kind of unlucky that way."

Mom handed Regina her scarf, and made some kind of joke to Henry. He laughed, and Regina smirked. The three of them headed for Emma and Lily, making their family whole. 

"I think we're lucky," Lily said, keeping her voice low enough just for Emma to hear. 

Regina slipped into Emma's arm, and Mom flipped Henry's scarf around his neck. 

"Henry wants to drive," Mom announced, smiling at him. Of course, she thought it was funny, she dove off cliffs for fun in dragon form. 

"Not until next year," Regina said, and Emma and Henry shared a look behind her. "Definitely not in the snow."

Mom tilted her head. "What makes driving different in the snow? It's not like you're flying through it." 

Emma and Lily shared the all too common, 'do you want to take this or should I?' glance and then Emma patiently explained how traction on ice and snow was different. The explanation carried them all the way to Regina's new, though for some reason still seemingly from the early eighties, Mercedes. The impending arrival of the new baby meant that Emma's bug and Regina's Mercedes needed back up. 

Mom still can't drive, and perhaps she'll agree to learn by the time Lily's half-sister is ready to teach her, decades from now. Lily climbed into the back seat, with Henry and Mom, even though they could teleport. The car ride seemed to be an important part of the journey, and Mom was mid conversation with Regina about running patrols of the frozen beach, even though they make her sleepy. 

"I can't believe being cold makes you sleepy like the Iguana we have at school," Henry whispered. 

"We're reptiles, I guess," Lily replied with a shrug. "Magic, flaming reptiles."

"What kind of sleepy is it? Like you've stayed up too late watching TV or you're going to finish that level anyway, regardless of what happens?"

"More like the first one, it's easily dismissed, but you have to think about it. Mom gets it worse, and she can't stop yawning. It's pretty funny." Lily leaned back against the seat, listening to the conversation move all around her. 

She looked at Henry, watching him follow the conversation. 

"Why did you build your castle in the snowy mountains?" Henry asked when the conversation paused. "You could have built it anywhere, down in the desert where it was warm."

Mal chuckled, so did Regina. They knew. Lily and Henry looked at each other, and the back of Emma's head as she drove. 

"I have no idea, kid," Emma offered. 

"To be as undesirable to other dragons as possible," Regina answered, turning in her seat. "You've always been a hermit."

"Why build something they'd want to take away? I'd have to defend it all the time. The snow was like a protection spell all on its own." 

"And you're lazy," Regina teased.

"I prefer to think of it as efficient." Mal replied.

Emma mentioned that Mal's 'efficiency' still did not extend to an understanding of the dishwasher, or the microwave, and the three of them dissolved into a kind of friendly bickering that reminded her of the good days with her adoptive parents. They'd be happy knowing she had a family, that she was loved and finally at peace with who she was. Not crazy or in need of a different kind of medication, but loved. Lily shut her eyes for a moment, thankful for the time she'd had with them, and what she had now. She'd been so lost, so miserable, and they'd tried, they'd loved her, helped hold her together so that she could make it here and finally be home.

They'd like Regina's cooking, Mom's sense of style and the strange way she viewed the world. Most of all, they'd love how this family loved her. She was safe at last, finally doing something she was good at that helped people. She hadn't thought this feeling even existed for her, that she could be _warm_ this way. 

Henry met her eyes, and his smile grew while her mothers and Emma continued to debate something with an underlying emotion Lily wasn't sure the three of them fully understood. Their joking held no tension, no jealousy, and that she was profoundly grateful for. She suspected sometimes that what was and what is blurred for her mothers, especially as Regina's pregnancy progressed and Mom fussed over her. Mom had a deep affection for Emma too, as they worked with magic and shared stories, Mom often came home with a question about something from Emma's past, or the horrors of the world without magic and the time Lily and Emma both had been running. 

Mom had been alone so much of her life by choice, and that only made her more sympathetic to the abandonment Emma and Lily had both gone through. There were stories that made her growl, and then she'd hug Emma all the tighter the next time they were together and Emma never quite got it, but that was Emma. 

Love was weird, having it was stranger and being overwhelmed with it was something neither of them felt they deserved. 

Emma met her eyes as they got out of the car, then grinned, that playful, brilliant Emma, grin. "So, Doctor, does that mean you're buying?"

"Like either Mom would let me." 

Chuckling, Emma beamed. "Good point." 

* * *

Maleficent yawned again, hiding her mouth behind her hand. She slowly smiled, shaking her head. "It's the cold," she explained. 

"It's not cold in here," Regina said. To be fair, she was perpetually warm now. Perhaps it was cool in her office. Emma was always colder than she was, but Mal was often just more aware of the temperature, and she wore a heavy wool blazer. 

Mal's smile grew, lighting her face. She shifted in her chair, studying Regina behind the desk. "I never thought I'd see the day when you were warmer than I."

"Me either." She'd complained at length about the dreariness of Maleficent's old castle. The fireplaces were never adequate and Mal hadn't updated them, or cleaned them more than once a century. The baby turned within her, pressing down heavy in her hips and Regina sighed. She couldn't waste time reminiscing. She had a list of things to accomplish before she could let Maleficent return to her classes and they'd already spoken about snow removal and making sure the forest was patrolled regularly, just in case the brutal Maine winter brought out some ice demons, or hungry trolls, or something else to make their life more difficult. 

Regina nearly checked those items off and tried not to wince when baby's foot collided with her rib. 

"Not a fish anymore, is she?"

"No," Regina said, a hand over the sore spot. She frowned a little, because the end of her pregnancy had its own list of concerns. "It's nearly over."

Mal's eyebrow rose. "More contractions?" Her hand dropped to the desk, moving closer and Regina stared at her fingers before she put down her pen. 

Wrapping Mal's warm fingers in her own took away some of the tension. Regina looked at the desk before she met her eyes. "No real ones," she said, "but they're more intense than they've been." Nothing even seemed to trigger these early contractions. They came of their own accord, without rhythm, made her world tighten along with the muscles of her belly, and left. Sometimes they came in in little groups, distracting her for twenty minutes, even twenty, but they were not a beginning, not yet. 

"Takes your breath away don't they?" 

"Yes," Regina said, leaning back in her chair. Mal shifted closer, her expression softening further."I think I frightened Emma yesterday." 

"Startled?"

Taking a breath helped Regina think, but it didn't make it any easier to speak. "Afraid."

Mal reached for her other hand, taking that one as well and warmth runs through her. "You said Henry's birth was difficult."

She looked away, studying the familiar black and white wall. She hadn't meant to grab Emma's hand that hard, or let so much of her own surprise and pain into her reaction, but it suddenly hurt, sharp and tight. Emma's eyes had been so wide, so very white. 

"They chained her to the bed," she said. Mal's fingers tightened around hers. "I don't know all of it, she gets so distant when we talk about it."

"In any world, prison is barbaric," Mal said. She kept her gaze on Regina's, her blue eyes warm and steady. "The world without magic is as brutal as ours was, if not more so, because there's not much hope out there. The stories Lily tells-" she paused, shaking her head. "But they're here now, both of them, and we can protect them. Make them safe enough to tell us what happened, how they were hurt." 

"I-" And it crept up on her, the gradual tightening that sometimes turned to pain. Her whole uterus clamped down, closing around the baby, preparing her to be born. Mal dropped her hands, circled the desk and then was just there, beside her, taking her hands again. 

"Breathe." 

Regina shuddered; this time it hurt, rolling through her, turning her nerves to red hot wires. "I'm fine." 

"Of course." Mal held her arm, then found her hands again. "Of course you're fine." She leaned on the desk, hands still wrapped around Regina's. "Did you make that little noise with Emma?"

"I didn't--"

Mal clucked her tongue. "You must have, and you're too tense. It hurts because you're tense."

"Thank you." 

"I'm serious, the more you try to hold it in, the worse it is." Mal leaned closer, then kissed her hair. "I tried to fight it for a day when Lily was born, maybe longer. Cruella made me realize that I was making it worse. Pain draws her like lightning. Makes her an interesting companion when you're having a baby."

Her chest tightened then, shifting her attention from her belly. Mal told the story so easily, without trying to protect her. "I'm sorry." 

"I didn't tell you. You couldn't have known." She drew their hands onto her thighs, holding Regina close. "Things would have been different, but we wouldn't have Henry, or Emma, or this odd, yet pleasant, little town if I'd begged you to come to my side. Pain passes, and I made it through."

"You always do," Regina said, letting her head drop for the moment. She'd failed them both back in the Enchanted Forest. She'd lost so much without even knowing of its existence. Maybe, worst of all, she wouldn't even have cared then, her heart was so dark that having a child wouldn't have mattered. Now though, everything was different. This baby needed her, and Emma, and she had no idea how to make that work or make sure she made it safely into the wider world. Emma's fear hid so close beneath the surface that it was palpable, a living thing that gnawed at her, that Regina couldn't help her banish. 

"It'll be all right," Mal promised, still full of hope. "Emma will conquer her demons, she always does, and if you need to grab someone's hand and be totally fine, my hands are at your disposal." 

Breath filled her chest, and for a moment, memory of that pain lingering, promising to return, in force, stronger than she'd experienced since Greg Mendel--

She would not think of that. Those memories could stay buried. That had been death rising for her, clawing at her, and this was life. This had a point. 

"What is it?" Mal reached for her cheek, brushing her skin with warm fingers. "What are your demons?" 

"It's not important," Regina said. That had been more of a year ago. He was dead. She had no reason to think of him now, but he crept in, almost as if the memories of Mendel and his machine had been dredged up by the pain. 

"It is," Mal insisted, holding their hands against her own chest. "You don't have to tell me now. Someday, soon, you might feel better if you got it off of your chest. In my experience, having a baby, that kind of uncontrollable pain, brought back other times I had hoped I'd forgotten."

Mal's clear blue eyes didn't hide her vulnerability, they never had, and it was almost envious how easily she spoke of her weakness. 

"When you're ready," Mal repeated, squeezing Regina's hands before she released them. "So, shall I speak to Emma?"

"Please, it might be easier if she talks to you." The muscles in her belly relaxed slowly, refusing to give up their preparation. At least part of her was ready, even if her mind was most certainly not. 

"She may not wish to tell me either." 

"But you will try."

"Of course." Mal nodded, circling back around the desk, back to her paperwork. "Now, how about you finish telling me what I need to do to keep the supply wagons."

Regina had to grin. "Trucks."

"Trucks," Mal repeated, smiling a little at the foreign word, "arriving on time." 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma works out some of her demons with Maleficent's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unfortunately as finished as this will be. I think emotionally it's a good place, even if it doesn't have the birth of the baby. Thanks for your support and your patience.

"What did Lily say about when Regina was due?" Snow asked, shifting Neal to the other hip. He squirmed there, wanting to be down to explore the floor. Emma reached for him, taking him from her mother and setting him down on the rug to crawl. She sat beside him, watching him search for treasures. 

"It's hard to tell," Emma reminded her mother, again. "Magic can be complicated, Regina was under a sleeping curse for several weeks and that may have had an effect. The baby's healthy. Regina's fine." She halted too long and Snow's expression shifted. Her gaze sharpened, and Emma looked back at little Neal, chewing on the corner of a pillow. 

"Not exhausted, uncomfortable and sick of being pregnant? I was."

"She hasn't-" Emma began, and stopped. Regina wouldn't complain. _Hadn't_. She slept poorly, constantly turning beside Emma, but she still smiled so easily. Maybe she was saving all her complaints for Maleficent while they went over what the town would need while Regina was on maternity leave. Maybe it was easier to tell her. 

"She hasn't what?"

"Complained to me." Emma watched Neal look for something to gnaw on and wondered how long it would take the little one to reach this stage. At least she'd get a little practice.

"Did you ask Maleficent?"

"I think she might get more of the complaining, but that's okay, they spend a lot of time together. Regina has a lot to teach her about the town and paperwork." She tugged the stuffed dog from Neal and he crawled after it, cooing, maybe gurgling. He was determined though. 

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Emma rolled to her back, letting the little guy paw her with his hands while she watched the ceiling. "Regina and Mal?" This is an odd discussion. "Why should that bother me? They're friends."

Snow sat down on the chair, looking down at her as if Emma's missed something big. "Who have a child."

"Lily's thirty-one," Emma replied, rolling her eyes. "That's kind of a long time ago."

"Not for Maleficent."

Now she had to sit up, because this was ridiculous. "What are you implying? Regina and Maleficent are having some kind of thing? Regina's pregnant, like really pregnant, and Mal already lived in our house for months. I guess she was sick then, but still. If they were what, having an affair? They've had plenty of opportunities. I work a lot of night shifts." 

Her mother stares pointedly over her tea. "That's not what I meant. They just spend a lot of time together, sometimes more than you and Regina, and I wanted to make sure that was okay with you. "

Getting to her feet, Emma reached for her jacket. She did not need this today. "Of course it's okay with me, and if it wasn't, I'd talk to Regina about it." 

"So if you had a problem, you'd talk to Regina."

"Of course I would!" 

Snow leaned back on the sofa, tapping her fingers against her mug. "You would?"

And now she's trapped, because she walked right into that one. "Well, yeah."

"When's Regina due?" 

Emma sighed, folding her jacket over her arm, then folding it again. "Could be any time in the next few weeks, first babies often run slow. I know it's not science, but Lily's studied a lot, she knows what she's talking about. She'd know if something was wrong, and I think between her and Mal, Regina would be fine." 

"Emma, come sit, you're not really leaving yet, talk to me."

Flopping down on the couch, Emma stared at Neal, wishing her life could be that simple. "She's fine. Regina is as fine as someone can be when very very pregnant."

"What about you?"

"I can still see my ankles, so I'm good." She looked up at the ceiling, because mom would want more than that. "I wish i could do more to help."

"Emma--"

"I do! I try to do all the good things, rub her feet, make sure we never run out of ice cream, or pickles, or kale chips." Her phone chirped, and Emma flew from her chair to grab it. Her heart thudded in her throat, but the text message was only Maleficent. Not an impending baby. 

Snow's voice rose in pitch. "Emma?"

"It's fine, Regina's fine," she said, waving her down. She read the text message twice before she calmed down, forcing herself to smile at how ridiculously jumpy she was. "Maleficent just needs to talk to me about town stuff. She's helping Mulan, kind of being temporary mayor dragon at the moment and we're all getting used to it. She's good at it, Mom, I promise." 

"So you have to go?"

"Yeah, I gotta go," Emma broke off, putting on her jacket and stuffing her phone in her pocket. "I'll see you Thursday for dinner?"

Snow lifted Neal up off the floor and helped him wave goodbye. "Unless you have a baby by then."

Emma winced, but tried to hide it as much as she could. "At the rate this kid is going, probably not even by next Thursday."

"So you hope."

"Mom--"

"Bye Emma," she said, pulling her into a quick hug. "Talk to Maleficent or someone, if you won't talk to me. You're carrying around a lot and it's easier if you say it outloud." 

"Okay!" Emma smiled again and pulled on her hat and gloves on the way to the car. She waved her hand and cleared the snow from the Bug, then started it. She took a breath, then another, willing her heart to stop pounding. Regina was fine. No one would chain her down. She'd be safe. She'd have Maleficent, and Lily if they needed her. 

Still, her wrist ached, and, the phantom cold of handcuffs taunting her, because this was about Regina, not Emma and her bad memories. Regina needed her to be present, to be there, without faltering, because having a baby was fucking scary and Regina deserved to have everything go well.

Emma turned down the quiet, snowy streets and headed for the mayor’s office. It was still weird not to have Regina’s car parked there. Maleficent just teleported, which did save her from having to deal with the snow, but made the little parking lot look so empty. 

Emma parked next to Regina’s spot, not in it. She’d never park in it without Regina. Shutting off the car, she steeled herself for the cold and the dragon lady and the memories she didn’t want to deal with that everyone seemed so concerned she talk about. How could talking help? She'd been through the shrinks and the grief counseling and how she should be gentle with herself about losing her baby. 

He wasn't lost. He'd had a whole life, a good one, and now he had more family than he knew what to do with, so all of that was bullshit, and the years she'd been alone, maybe those were worth it too, because she needed to be here, now, not earlier, not without Henry. 

By the time she walked into Regina's office, still stomping snow off her boots, Emma needed a drink. She hung up her coat and went straight for the cabinet. The whiskey already out sat out, right there with a glass. She turned, curious, and Mal had a tumbler balanced on her paperwork. 

"Help yourself," she said without looking up. 

Emma sniffed the whiskey and poured. "How is it?"

"Running this town is immensely complicated and requires copious amounts of forms," Mal paused, then set down her pen. "It's almost enough to make one nostalgic for monarchies." 

"I'm sorry."

Mal shrugged and her chair (Regina's chair) creaked when she leaned back. "It's temporary. Regina deserves a break."

"Still sucks."

Taking a swig, Mal grinned over the glass, her smile somehow bright and vulnerable. "I do feel like I owe you two a rather large debt."

"You going to follow us around and be our Wookie sidekick?"

That made her laugh enough that she set down her glass, rather than spill it. "Do you know how many times Henry and I watched that _Star Wars_ while I was recovering?" 

"You did?" Emma leaned forward, trying to focus on that image rather than the stubborn panic in her stomach. 

"I let him chose, most of the time, and when he was particularly tired or reading comics, he'd put it on to keep me company. After the fifth or sixth time, I think I understand the appeal." Maleficent shut the folder on her desk, moved it neatly across to the pile. She circled the desk and moved to the sofa, inclining her head for Emma to join her. "Chewbacca is a wonderful creature, I would be pleased to be compared to him."

Emma trailed after her, bringing her drink. It was easier to sit on the sofa, less strange than watching Maleficent sit in Regina's desk. 

"You're smiling."

"If you're Chewbacca, and you owe me a life debt then Regina's Princess Leia--"

Mal chuckled at that. "She'd resent being a princess, most certainly." 

"Maybe we don't tell her that part of the analogy." Emma leaned her glass over, clinking it against Maleficent's. "You don't have to think of it that way, you know."

Turning to her, Mal raised her eyebrow. "Think of what, dear? Star Wars?"

"No," Emma said, taking another sip. She let the whiskey sting her tongue, making it numb. "It's not a debt. We didn't save you so you'd owe us. It's not like that." 

"You think debts are only about obligation?" 

Shrugging, Emma set down her glass. It was an odd conversation, but far more pleasant than she'd imagined it was going to go. She didn't want to talk about Henry, and how he was born, so the longer this took, the better it was. "Well, yeah, that's why people say indebted, and stuff."

Maleficent touched her shoulder, her hand warm and gentle. Emma hadn't known her when they'd saved her, barely understood who she was, let alone what, but now, she got it. She was warm, not just in that dragon way, but as a person. She cared, about Regina, she loved her, but the way she looked at Emma sometimes. "I believe the alternate meaning of debt is one of gratitude. While I tried to finish the tortuous paperwork Regina left me, my mind wanders."

"That's understandable."

She smiled at Emma. "I hear one is meant to hate paperwork."

"Unless you're Regina," Emma muttered, reaching for the whiskey again. 

"She likes to feel useful," Mal explained. Her hand rested on Emma's wrist. "It's important to her, how she cares for the town, and I will do my best to keep Storybrooke intact until she can do that again."

"I'm sure she'll come back as soon as she can."

"She does not need to rush, neither do you, time with your child, that's the most precious thing." She inhaled, her breath too sharp. 

"I'm sorry, here I am worrying about the one thing you wanted more than anything." Emma finished her whiskey and set it down. She wanted to hug her, to do anything to take the pain away, but they didn't really hug. 

Mal filled her glass and stopped. "If you drink this, we'll have to travel home with magic." 

"Now that you're temporary mayor, you understand things like driving while intoxicated."

Tapping her head, Mal made a face. "Dragon memory. The entire ordinances of STorybrooke, including far too many pages about apple trees, are seared into my memory."

"You must really care about Regina if you're willing to do that." The whiskey didn't even sting anymore, which meant Mal was right, no driving. 

"You know I love her." Mal traced her hand over the rim of the glass. "And our family."

"All of us?"

"What you did, Emma the savior, was share your fire with me, among my kind, that's the deepest of connections. We're family."

Emma put a hand on her shoulder, then wrapped her arm around her, because that felt right. "Is that why I felt like I owned you? Back then, when I wasn't- me?" 

"You were you," Mal promised, leaning into Emma's arm instead of pulling away. It's weird, but comfortable. Almost normal. Family was warm, and safe. Part of Emma knew that deep. "There's a little of you in me, and Regina, and I- I want to help. I don't want to pry into your past."

"I just want to seal it up, push it away, never deal with it. It's- like a pothole, you just cover it up, smooth it over. I was never going to have another baby." Emma left the couch, walking away before she started crying or something else stupid. Staring at the snow didn't help, because it fell heavy and thick, covering everything, making it smooth and even. 

"Regina is fine."

Shaking her head, Emma folded her arms over her chest. "She's afraid."

"I was."

"You?" Emma turned, facing Maleficent who sat on the sofa, glass in hand as if that was a normal admission, something that could just be said so easily. "Why were you afraid?"

"Having a child changes you, you know that, but birthing one was a new experience. You hear of it, see it perhaps as a human among humans. Other than a few desperate villagers who thought the sorceress could help them because she lived in a castle."

Emma remembered that, she'd spoken of that before. How when they were desperate, the people of the Enchanted Forest would turn to anyone with power, even a dragon. 

"So that's what you knew of birth? Women dying and you still thought, hey, instead of having an egg--"

"Some can take an egg, a hatchling is a powerful magical talisman, or could be raised to bend to someone's whim. A dragon is well, the closest one could get to an Air Force, back in the old world. I was so afraid someone would take her."

"And my parents did." 

Maleficent met her at the window, resting her hands on her shoulders, somehow taller, warmer and more calm about that horrible fact that Emma ever could be. "Whatever your parents have done, is no reflection on you." 

"But someone took her, they walked into your cave and just took her. How do you not hear them coming?"

Hands ran down her arms, comforting her even though Emma couldn't put into words yet why she was upset. 

"What do you hear, Emma?"

She shook, trembling as Maleficent stood behind her. Emma took a breath, trying to force it out of her mind. Henry went to a better place, he'd gone to Regina, he'd been loved. She couldn't have helped him. 

"He wouldn't stop crying when they took him away," Emma said, staring at the snow. "I heard him, all the way down the hall, to the other room. He knew that I left him." 

"You didn't."

"You hear Lily, don't you?" Emma turned, reaching for Maleficent's pain instead of hers. Maybe that she could talk about without wanting to tear her heart out. 

"I always hear her." Mal stroked her face, like she did to Regina when she was upset, and Emma stared at her, losing herself in her eyes because she knows that pain. She heard Henry crying in her nightmares, remembered that cuff that bound her to the bed and the cold metal, the spasms of pain: all of it blurred together into Henry crying and her turning away from him. 

She saw it now, reflected in Maleficent's eyes. Lily. That vulnerability, the weakness of not being able to get her back. It burnt between them, sizzling like a flame jumping from one tree to the next. 

"Whoa."

"I told you," Mal whispered, still stroking Emma's hair. "We share the same flame. Don't fight it. Let it burn, it'll help." 

Magic lapped at her, reaching with little tongues of fire inside of her, or was it from Maleficent's eyes? It wasn't her magic (it was) but that old magic, the hungry, inhuman, dragon kind of magic. That wasn't her, but it felt like her when it reached up, alien and so very strong. 

"What is that?"

"That, is your dragon, dear." 

"I don't--"

Mal kissed her cheek, and heat spiralled from that, reaching inwards. "That spell, saving me, marking Regina, conceiving your child-- all of that is you, the spell just let it out, amplified it. You, are one of the most powerful humans I have ever met, Emma. No spell could change that, or give you something that wasn't already here."

Her hand rested on Emma's chest, fingers not claws, even though Emma felt the weight of them. "You love REgina, and you, just your presence, is what she needs. If she needs anything else, anything you can't handle, I'm here, Lily's here, Henry, your mother-- Regina is safe. She has her nest." 

"But I--"

"Emma, you're safe. We're all here for you, too." 

Old magic, perhaps older memories, supplied Emma with the sensation of being surrounded in scales and flame, being warm in a way she'd never been, wrapped in the bodies of those who loved her. That was the nest, what Mal talked about when her eyes grew wistful. That was the literal, dragon sense of it, and the human was here. 

Human nesting was being hugged and led back to the sofa. It was tissues pressed into her hands and stories when Emma couldn't stop crying. Regina will be safe, the baby will be safe, everyone will be safe: it echoed in her head, over and over, crackling with fire. 

When they finally went home, Lily dried the damp patch on Maleficent's waistcoat with a wave and hugged Emma tight before releasing her to Henry, who held her tighter. 

Mal left her with them, heading into the kitchen to see what Regina had baked today. With the snow falling fast and thick, and nothing else to do on maternity leave, Regina had baked enough in the past week that Emma had been giving away cookies, brownies, pieces of cake, to anyone who stopped by the Sheriff's station. Lily took some to the clinic and Henry had fed his class and the others on his floor. 

Regina needed to be busy. She wasn't used to not having anything to do and maybe she'd just watched way too much of that cute baking show on Netflix. 

She met Emma in the door, hands on her nearly vanished hips, her belly covered in an apron. "Hey." 

Going to her, wrapping herself around Regina and scent of cinnamon and vanilla and _her_ , the fire in Emma's chest slowed, calmed, settled into embers. She was home, her family was here, and everything in the past, stirrups and guards, Henry screaming because she'd never held him: all of that burnt away. 

This time was safe. Hands on her back, Lily's, Henry's, Maleficent's all promised that as they set the table for dinner. Regina looked at her as they took down the plates, stroked her cheek and then kissed her, soft and so gentle. 

"There you are."

**Author's Note:**

> It was always my intention to come back and finish this, but I find I can't. I'm okay with Regina and Emma hugging as the last scene, they're together, they're happy, and their life is full of promise. I'm just not in a place where I can deal with pregnant Regina right now, even though things were different when I started, now it feels like a disservice to her character. 
> 
> I also don't love Swan Queen as I once did. Please forgive me, and I hope you enjoy it regardless.


End file.
